Making the Means
by arabellaesque
Summary: The tale of Lene, child of Bhaal, and her not so ordinary destiny as she finds herself alone in the Sword Coast
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _This has been floating about my head for a while now, though I'm not sure how well I can pull it off (if at all) -- so be warned. It's mostly just a writing exercise for me to see if I can tackle subjects and issues which I (cough) tend to blush at, though feel free to leave your views and opinions!_

_Also, I guess I should explain... Lene takes the place of the PC, though she hasn't 'grown up' in Candlekeep -- her history is vaguely described, but to clarify: Gorion rescued her as a baby, and found her a steady home to live in with trusted non-Harper friends, in the hope that she could have some semblence of a normal life. Of course, it was not to be, so she was called for to live with him, and then they ended up leaving, pretty much as they do in the game. Lene, however, resents him more than anything else, for taking her away from what she saw as her family, for no apparent reason._

_This will _not_ (if I manage to keep going with it) follow the events of BG as they normally go, though they would be running concurrently in the background :) Oh, and, chapters are likely to be short, at least until I get into her head and into the feel of it... as I say, it's an exercise for me!_

**Prologue**

She sat before the large mirror and rhythmically swept the brush through her hair, admiring the way it seemed to shine in the dim light of the tavern room. It curled around her shoulders, shorter than a lot of the other girls wore their hair, but in far better condition than the knotted, tangled messes that was the norm. It was her pride and joy -- the thing that helped her rise above the others every night, the attraction that ensured the attention of many of her clientele.

When she was done she cast a critical eye over the rest of her appearance. Her blue dress had seen better days, it was true; but if she was careful and stayed out of the harsher lights downstairs, people were less likely to see the rips and tears. Still, she'd almost saved up enough to buy a replacement, and one more fashionable too! The gown she was wearing was plain and extremely dull; one she'd been ordered to wear when she was taken to live at Candlekeep with the strange old sage. Originally it had covered her from neck to ankle, but with the aid of a pair of scissors, she'd managed to tailor it into something much more stylish.

Unfortunately, despite her best efforts she couldn't fully repair the rents in it that had been caused by her terrified flight in the middle of the night. No sooner had Gorion called for her to come and live with him at the library settlement than he'd declared that they must leave urgently, and soon. And so she'd been dragged away with barely a chance to grow accustomed to him at all, with his insistence that she should seek out two of his friends should anything happen to him on the road.

And it had happened; bandits or some such had attacked -- she wasn't really sure who they were or what they wanted from the mage, fleeing away from them as they conversed. And she'd been right to -- her final glance around had been to see Gorion falling, which did nothing except to make her run faster. And she ran until she couldn't any more, stumbling onto the road that the sage had insisted they leave as dawn broke around her. She remembered his words; _Find Khalid and Jaheira_, but she chose to ignore them. She hadn't known the old man at all, and she felt nothing at his death except bitterness. He'd taken her from her home, from the people who loved her, and now he was dead and she was alone.

So she'd set off determinedly to the south, finding her way to Beregost somehow. She planned to get a job, save for a while -- earn enough to go home, perhaps... but she wasn't sure where home was. She knew the people looking after her weren't her true parents, but it hadn't mattered -- it had never mattered, because they cared for her and nurtured her. But then they'd let her go. Why had they let her go?

The more she dwelt on the matter, the less she wanted to return to them. So when she met her current companion, she'd accepted her aid immediately, listening to her advice and tutelage and accepting a job as her associate. The coin was good -- and there was always the chance it could be better if the customer had drunk one too many ales. It meant she had a roof over her head, a safe place to stay. And, more importantly, she was now in control of her own life.

There was a knock at the door, and it opened as she turned, smiling to the woman who entered. The older human looked the girl over, nodding approvingly at her efforts and returning the grin with one of her own.

"Are you ready, Lene?" she asked, her voice deep and husky. Her hands were smoothing her own dress, a deep scarlet colour which complemented her brown hair beautifully.

Lene nodded. "I'm ready whenever you are."

Safana smiled and held out her hand. "Come, then," she purred deliciously as Lene took her hand and they began to walk towards the stairs leading down to the lounge. "Let us see what wonders shall behold us tonight!"


	2. Chapter 2

The Burning Wizard wasn't the grandest of inns in Beregost; but it was clean, always busy, and popular with a variety of locals and travellers alike. It had also become the favourite haunt for the acolytes from the nearby Temple of Lathander to visit, and as such, Safana had used all her charm to strike a deal with a few of the more easily led members into the providing of potions and spells to prevent any unfortunate accidents. 

Their main contact, Josephus, was there that evening, lounging on one of the more comfortable seats as he listened to the Amnian minstrel. He held several cards in his grasp, smiling benignly at the two young merchants sitting across from him as they cautiously pushed forward some coin into the middle of the table. With an apologetic cock of his head, he placed his hand on the surface, offering words of sympathy as he acknowledged their loss and pulled the money towards his side.

"Good evening," Safana said softly, her eyes quickly running over the two traders, who both stood up to greet her, the closest one taking her hand in his and offering it a delicate kiss. Lene smiled at the other, knowing well enough that when men came in pairs, the elder woman had the first choice.

"Ladies! Lathander must truly be shining down on me today to be blessed with your presence!" Josephus exclaimed, briskly ensuring his winnings were safely in his money pouch before he stood up, carefully manouevering the two women away from the two men.

"I'd advise against them," he said, his voice only just above a whisper. "Tymora has not been smiling upon them tonight, and I fear they'd be miserably poor targets for such accomplished entertainers as yourselves..." They stepped out to the corridor with him, following him round to an unused room near the storeroom where the priests were allowed to sleep if they stayed at the inn for too long in the evening. He closed the door behind him and quickly got down to the business of blessing each of them with his rites to prevent fertility. When it was done, Safana thanked him, passing over the usual fee.

"And thank you for the advice regarding your young gentlemen friends," she smiled, opening the door and leading them back towards the lounge. "A shame, however... such pretty faces are always a treat to deal with!"

They wished Josephus a good night and an extended good luck for his card games, then wandered out into the chillier evening air. Arm-in-arm they made their way slowly towards the west side of the town, chatting lightly about this and that, and keeping their eyes open for any likely business. As expected, they reached Feldepost's Inn before they caught sight of any potential clients; the rumoured arrival of an adventuring group had proven to be true, and a few of the men were standing outside conversing, tankards of ale in their hands.

Lene counted a dozen other ladies hanging around, though none were in direct conversation with the group. This increased her confidence -- and Safana's easy gait suggested that the woman held high hopes about their pickings. As usual, they swept up to their targets, almost brazenly, and both offered dazzling smiles and coy looks. It was almost too easy.

"Well, well, well," said the tallest of the three men, his eyes betraying his obvious interest in their arrival. "What do we have here? More sights of Beregost to see?" The other two men chuckled.

"We prefer to think of ourselves as rare commodities," Safana said, looking up at him from under her thick eyelashes. "Only the special and the... privileged, can hope to participate in our very special and tailored entertainments."

The men exchanged rowdy calls and suggestive comments with the older woman, and then their tankards were drained before they began to follow the two women back towards the Burning Wizard. It didn't take Safana long to agree to accompany two of them, leaving the third one for Lene's attention. He was the quieter of the three, but neither the oldest appearing, nor the youngest. One of the first things she noticed about him was the band of gold on his finger; not wholly unusual, but still uncommon enough for her to wonder, briefly, about his reasons and intentions for travelling the roads.

But it was none of her business -- he didn't offer his name, though she was sure to mention the one she used as she led him into her room, lighting the candles that she'd placed around earlier that evening while he sat upon her bed, watching her every move with hunger. She moved slowly and deliberately, making sure she accentuated her every move so that he could see the curves of her body, until eventually she stood before him, smiling down at his eager face.

His hair was as black as the night, a mane of tangles that her fingers got caught in as they sought a path through. Once relieved of his armour, she discovered a muscled body, disciplined and toned in the way of a warrior, and complemented with the scars that usually accompanied such a physique. He wasn't gentle -- how long he'd been without a woman's touch was a mystery to Lene, but it had obviously been too much as he roughly removed her dress, weakening her already fragile mendings. She could smell the scent of alcohol on his breath, mingling with a faint hint of leather and a muskier scent of sweat as he made his way on top of her, wasting no time in seeking a way to relieve his tension. She moved to accomodate him, ensuring that he was pleasured with his clumsy moves, smiling at him as he released his seed.

It was over sooner than she'd expected, but she was not surprised when he rolled off, collapsing onto his back on the bed next to her, requesting another chance to sample her talents as the evening wore on. With practiced ease she let her hands run softly across his shoulders, smiling slyly as he shuddered under her light touch. Her kisses soon followed her carress, covering his chest and torso as she went through the moves she'd grown so used to; that every customer allowed themselves to believe were done just for them...

But inside, as usual, she felt nothing; except the muted feeling of anticipation at the coin she'd earn.


	3. Chapter 3

The sky was grey and heavy-looking the morning after. She was silently standing at the window, wondering when it would start raining as she brushed her hair once again. It was her way of trying to wipe away the previous evening; she'd wash quietly in the washbasin, get dressed, then run her comb through her hair until she felt almost renewed. Almost as if it hadn't happened.

There was a scratching noise at the door. Quietly Lene padded over to the table beside the bed and collected the coin that had been agreed the previous evening, ignoring the snoring man still lying in her bed. She'd waken him up and move him on shortly -- the deed had been done, the payment received, and she'd need some time to get her room in order for the next evening.

Safana was peering in by the time she turned around, her face a mixture of amusement and... fear? Lene wasn't sure she'd ever seen the other woman scared before, so it was hard to tell. Whatever it was, though, she was beckoning for Lene to come outside the room, and the girl obeyed silently.

"Don't make too much noise," Safana warned, her voice barely audible as she drew the door quietly closed again. "Pack up your belongings -- only take what you'll need, a bag at the most."

Lene frowned at her. "Why? What's-"

Safana shook her head, winking slyly in the process. "I'll tell you later -- go, and quickly, before they waken up. Meet me in the alley at the back of the inn."

With that she turned away and darted downstairs; Lene noticed her own bag was already packed and full to the brim. With no more opportunity to question, the girl had no choice; she quietly returned to her room, locking the door once again behind her, and pulled out her own old knapsack, filling it with what few possessions she had. Some rather ragged clothing layered the bottom, a small vial of scented liquid cushioned in the folds, and then the boxes and jars of powders and paints for her face. Her brush went in next, almost lovingly placed near the back, and finally her money and herb pouches; one fuller than the other, she noted, and unfortunately it wasn't the one with the gold.

A quick look around revealed nothing else that would fit in her bag -- and, indeed, nothing else that was truly her own anyway. And so, still remaining deathly quiet, she slipped on her shoes and started to make her way to the door.

She jumped when someone started banging on it loudly, startling the man in her bed from his sleep. She paused momentarily; warily eyeing first her client, and then the door, which showed some signs of being unable to withstand the constant barrage being hurled at it.

"Open up!" came a deep, gruff voice. "Is she in there? If she is, we'll skin her alive!"

Suddenly Lene didn't feel too comfortable at all. The man from last night was beginning to come around fully, and he had noticed her pack and heard the man's shouts. He was beginning to realise that something wasn't right, and he stood up, grabbing his trousers from the nearby chair and pulling them on quickly as he watched her carefully. She stood rigidly still, her mind trying desperately to think of a way out.

"Wait," he called, hopping as he dressed, one leg clad, the other having difficulty finding its correct path. "She's still in here with me."

Lene swallowed slightly, her eyes darting over to the window. She was a full floor above the ground below, but surely it wasn't _that_ far to drop-

As if he'd read her mind, the man grabbed her arm as he moved forward to open the door, letting his companions storm inside. Both looked quite sleep deprived; one also looked quite ill, and his skin was pale and sallow. The other glared around, his eyes only drifting over Lene for a second as he searched the small room.

"Not her," he said dismissively. "The other one -- the thieving wench!"

"What's happened, Chek? What's wrong with Trey?" The man holding Lene's arm didn't loosen his grip at all, and the tightness was beginning to hurt. She squirmed slightly, but he ignored her.

"The girl -- she's been through our clothes," Chek said. "It's gone, Jeb. Gone."

"No..." Jeb's grasp loosened slightly as his comrade's words sank in. "It can't be -- I thought you'd left it back at the inn?"

The man called Chek reddened slightly. "I didn't want to leave it with that Calishite mage," he muttered. "Who knows what he'd have-"

"He wouldn't have let a simple whore steal it from him!" Jeb shouted. "Now tell me what's wrong with Trey!"

"I... I don't know," Chek said helplessly. The other man was leaning on the doorframe, and sweat was covering his brow, drenching his hair. "He was fine last night."

"Did you eat anything that she gave you?" Jeb asked sharply. "Drink anything?"

"I didn't, no... But Trey... he had a bit to drink, with it being... being his first time, and..." The older man's voice faded out as Trey groaned behind him, swaying slightly.

"So not only has she stolen from you, but she's poisoned him as well?" Jeb's voice was grim, and he finally turned to look at Lene, renewing his grip on her arm roughly.

"Where is she?"

Lene's throat was dry. "I don't know," she croaked.

"Lying harlot!" He shook her roughly as he spoke, anger gleaming in his eyes. Whatever Safana had been up to, it had landed them in deep trouble. "Your bag is packed and you were about to sneak away, just like she has. You _must_ have been in this together."

Lene shook her head helplessly. "I've only known her a short while... I really don't know what's happened, or what-"

The force of the man's hand as it struck her face was enough to send her flying, and she fell to the ground, one shaking hand rising up to touch her throbbing skin. Jeb had turned back to his men, his hands on his head as he swore loudly at their carelessness. Lene ignored him, ignored the trickle of blood that she could taste in her mouth, and looked back at the window. She'd opened it on the finer days, in the afternoons when the sun would shine down and straight into her room. She knew she could fit through it -- she just needed the time to get to it and open it...

"Trey!" Chek moved to support the younger man as his legs finally gave way, his eyes flickering as they fought to stay open. "We need to get him to Amos!"

"Help me get him to the bed," Jeb barked. "Then go and get him from Feldepost's."

Lene crawled closer to the window. The clasp was almost within reach, but one wrong move would mean her being discovered, and her options would be even more limited. The men got their sick companion to the bed and Chek ran out, obviously obeying Jed's orders. Jed, however, was turning his attention back to her.

"I'll ask you once again, and then I won't be quite as accommodating," he said calmly, moving so he stood over her, glaring down. "Where is your friend?"

She could tell them. She could say where Safana was, and watch them go to find her, getting back whatever it was that was so precious to them. But they'd probably kill her -- and what was to stop them killing _her_ as well, just to prove some point.

"Overgrown garden, next to the Jovial Juggler," she said, her voice trembling. "She's waiting... waiting..."

"She won't be waiting for long," Jeb said, his voice low and threatening. "And as for you-"

He was interrupted by Trey's moans, and Lene took advantage of his momentary distraction, quickly snapping free the latch that held her window shut and throwing it open as wide as it'd go. She forced herself to not look down, then took a deep breath as she clambered onto the sill and moved to jump.

"Not so fast!" Jeb's hand caught her just before she could escape, pulling her back roughly into the room and pushing her onto the bed so she was lying next to the convulsing man. His eyes had rolled back, and foam was coming from his mouth as spasms coursed through his body; she instinctively moved away in horror.

"Frightens you, does it?" Jeb caught a hold of her, pinning her down under his weight as his eyes bored into her. "Maybe we'll find out what she gave him, then, and give you a dose of the same."

Lene continued to struggle, but it was no good -- he was far stronger than her and even her nimbleness could find no way to wriggle free. So she knew she had no option but to fight back and she drew her leg up sharply, connecting firmly with his unprotected groin with a force she didn't know she possessed.

He gasped and wheezed in pain, rolling away from her and off the bed as his hands instinctively went to his injury. Lene sprang from the bed, grabbing her bag, and jumped over him and his futile attempts to grab her. She ran from the room, racing downstairs as fast as she could manage and to the door that led outside.

She was halfway there when it began to open, two men rushing in; the one at the front being the man called Chek. He paused, briefly, looking at her with some bewilderment, then pointed upstairs.

"He's up there -- door on the right," he shouted. The other man, robed and stern looking, nodded, and swiftly began to climb the stairs as Lene turned and made her way to the back door.

"You -- come back here!"

Chek was following her, his footsteps making a deafening noise on the wooden floors compared to her own muted movements. She cursed internally -- she was leading him straight to Safana, but there was nowhere else she could go, and no other way to leave the inn. She darted into the kitchen, slamming the door closed behind her, and causing the cook to scream in surprise as she raced past, heading towards the rear entrance.

When she got outside she looked around wildly, then noticed Safana standing a little way further up the alley. The other woman grinned broadly, her eyes shining with excitement as she saw her friend, and Lene ran over to her, fighting for her breath.

"They're... coming," she wheezed, pointing behind her as Safana's smile faded, giving way to a puzzled frown. "They came looking... for you," she continued, desperately pulling Safana's arm and trying to persuade her to move, quickly, away from her pursuer.

"Hells..." the older woman muttered, suddenly complying and turning, running with Lene along the alley as the man chased. But despite their natural quickness, they could not hope to beat the magically hasted man; and as he got close to them, just before they reached the intersection with the road, he lunged for Safana and grabbed her flailing arm.

"Lene!" she shouted, the sudden grab making her violently jerk backwards and into the tighter grasp of Chek's arms. Lene stopped, spinning around to see him shake her friend violently as he shouted at her, demanding to know where it was; Lene still had no idea what they were seeking.

Safana didn't answer, and his gloved hand struck her face and left a large red mark across her cheek as she hung limply from his other, her feet barely touching the ground. Her bag fell to the floor; his eyes followed it, a sudden satisfaction crossing his face. "Lene..." Safana called again, but this time it was barely a whisper, his hand around her throat as he kept her from escaping.

Lene looked on helplessly -- but then she saw it; the dull handle of the dagger protruding from the other woman's dropped bag. Quickly she darted for it, grabbing the bag and quickly swiping the weapon free, brandishing it like a complete novice. Chek laughed.

"Put it down before you hurt yourself," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Or before I hurt _her_." On demand he tightened his grip, causing Safana to whimper pitifully. Lene felt a strange sense of irritation build within her.

"Let her go, and I won't be forced to hurt you," she replied defiantly. She could run now; drop the knife, drop Safana's bag, and leave the woman to face whatever they had in store for her. If she did have whatever they wanted, then they'd likely be content to deal with her and not pursue Lene. She'd only have to make sure she stayed out of their way...

_She's the only one who's been here for me since I got here._ She shook the cowardly thoughts from her head, deftly dodging Chek's wild and clumsy grab for the dagger she was pointing at him. He snarled slightly, obviously getting angrier.

"Last warning, girl," he growled. "Put it down now and give me the bag, or say goodbye to your friend."

A choking noise came from Safana as she struggled for air against the man's constricting hold, and her eyes met Lene's -- wide, scared, and pleading. Lene had no option; something inside her seemed to awaken, and the adrenaline flowed around her pumping heart. She thrust the weapon forward and she felt it slide through the man's leather armour.

Her eyes had been closed; it was only when she heard the dull thump as a body slid to the ground that she opened them, her mind racing to catch up with what had happened. Safana was half-kneeling, half-crouching, her hands around her neck as she tried to massage the pain away, her breathing heavy and uneven. The man lying on the ground was not dead; his hands were clasped to his side, trying to nurse the wound that was allowing his red blood to pour from the gash in his armour and fill the small grooves beneath the cobbles under their feet, running like small rivers in a stone landscape. She found the sight mesmerising; her fingers relaxed, and the dagger fell, crashing to the ground.

"You..." Check wheezed, his eyes closed as tightly as his teeth as he fought the pain. "You'll... pay..."

"Come on." Safana swiftly grabbed her bag, sweeping her dagger up from the ground in one fluid movement before she grabbed Lene's arm, pulling her away from the scene. "Come _on_," she repeated, more urgently this time. There was a man's voice calling from nearby; it wouldn't be long before his companions came looking for him.

Lene let herself be led -- Safana didn't go out onto the road, though. Instead, she slipped into a small garden, easily scaling the wall and climbing up to the roof, Lene following in a daze. At the other side they dropped to the ground, quite easily, and then made a dash for the woods, with no sign of anyone behind them. They ran for a long time, ensuring that there was plenty of space between them and their pursuers, before Safana suddenly stopped, turning to look at Lene and bursting into laughter; delighted and gleeful cackling as she pulled something from her pack -- a dirty cloth, folded over across itself.

Slowly she opened it up as Lene made her way ever closer to see what was to be uncovered; and then, there it was. Glistening under the unexpected sun as it peeked out from behind a cloud as they stood in the middle of the quiet glade; a thousand different sides on its roughly cut surface, and almost as big as Safana's palm. It was the biggest diamond Lene had ever seen.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days showed Lene a side of Safana that she'd not previously seen before. The attention to appearance, however, remained -– living rough made it harder, the older woman said, to maintain good looks, but not impossible, and there was simply no excuse for letting a bit of mud stay where it shouldn't be. 

And so Lene learned a little about foraging, more about hiding, but mostly about raiding and theft. Safana insisted she keep the dagger she'd used against Chek, having a shortsword of her own, and Lene had only hesitated for a moment before accepting. The wilderness could be dangerous, but the problems facing the Sword Coast due to the iron shortage, and the associated bandits, were not enough to deter Safana from her plan to lie low until the hunt on the girls had been called off; and the only way for them to survive was to beg, borrow and steal. Begging, though, wasn't in Safana's list of accepted survival techniques.

They made their way to the coast, sheltering in an abandoned lighthouse for a few days before they found a cave, almost completely hidden from view to all except those aboard ships. Despite the remote location, the coastal routes were not too far away, and what appeared to be a favourite spot for overnight camps became their regular haunt in the witching hours, quietly and covertly making away with whatever they could find to see them through the days.

Safana showed her how to light a fire from what nature provided, explained that most berries were not worth eating, but that a few made fine additions to any meal. She identified herbs, had a knack for cooking, and was a lot more domesticated -– and aware of the outdoor world -– than Lene would ever have imagined from the perfumed, scantily clad woman she'd originally met.

The older woman clearly didn't relish the tasks, though; always complaining about a broken nail or some rough skin, until, finally, Lene almost completely took over. Then Safana would lounge back against the cushions they'd managed to pilfer from a passing caravan, smiling serenely as she gazed upon her gem.

And so it was, one evening while Lene stirred the pot -– some concoction of the ingredients they'd had left from their previous raids on a convoy of spices and meats -– that Safana was looking out towards the sea, lazily watching as the waves rippled under the hue of the setting sun.

"My first love was a sailor," she remarked casually, stretching her arms out to either side, arching her back as she wriggled in her seat to get more comfortable. "He said he could take me to meet my mother."

Lene looked over to the other woman with curiosity. "Was your mother a sailor too?" she asked.

Safana laughed lightly. "Absolutely not," she purred. "I don't know much about her, as it was daddy who brought me up; he used to tell me about her when I was a little girl back in Calimport. She was a sirine, he said, from the sea itself. That explained why I was always so drawn to the oceans."

Lene wrinkled her brow. "What's a sirine?"

"One of the most beautiful creatures you could ever meet," Safana replied, a small smile adorning her pinked lips. "They can enchant a man with only their gaze, and enslave him to their wills. Daddy was caught by her as he walked along the shore, and gifted her with the seed for a child. She left me on the beach for him to find when I was born, and he brought me up on land."

"Why didn't you stay with your mother?" Lene enquired.

"I think my father stole me from her," Safana replied, her eyes twinkling as the flames from the fire reflected. "Perhaps he thought it would mean she followed him to his home. Or, perhaps," she laughed mirthlessly, "I was the product of one of his affairs with his concubines. Regardless, my father brought me up, gave me everything I wanted..." The woman sighed softly. "But it wasn't enough… it was too boring, too... restricted. I left in the middle of the night when I came of age, and I've never looked back."

"You didn't say goodbye?"

"Goodbyes are overrated. Why spoil a wonderful, if limited, relationship with emotional farewells that cast a cloud on the parting?"

"Well, he's probably worried about you..." Lene pointed out. "After all, anything could have happened."

"Oh, darling... the worst thing that could have happened to me... well, it did, in his eyes," Safana smirked. "I joined a ship, and it was much more fun than staying at home with daddy. The captain was... very accommodating to me."

"Even so," Lene said firmly, "I bet he was worried sick about you."

"He knew I was alive," the other woman shrugged. "No more than two tendays after I slipped away with the delicious man I'd ran off with, we... met daddy on board a ship of his own."

"Well, I guess at least he knows you were safe," Lene said, a hint of doubt in her voice.

"Not that it did him much good." Safana batted her eyelashes as she spoke. "My handsome captain wanted daddy's cargo very badly… badly enough to leave the sinking ship behind."

Lene stared. "You... you were a pirate?!"

"Pirate is such an exciting word, isn't it?" Safana smiled. "Alas, that is quite misleading. The whole affair turned out to be quite tiresome in the end, and I was expected to pull my weight all around the ship, not only in a bedroom capacity." There was a lengthy pause, and then Safana spoke again. "You don't seem too bothered by the fate of my father... it surprises me."

Lene shrugged non-committally. "We're not all close to our parents, real or not," she said bitterly.

The older woman leaned forward with a look of fascination on her face. "Such hostility!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together and smiling with apparent delight. "Do tell me... what happened to warrant such emotion?"

"Nothing as exciting as you're hoping, I'd wager," Lene muttered darkly. Then she sighed, drawing one hand across her brow wearily. "I had a family of my own, and I was taken away from them by some old mage who wanted to be my father himself I think. He used to sometimes visit us, and I had no real quarrel with him, but... he sent for me one day, out of the blue, and I arrived at this dreary old fortress, full of monks and books."

"And you ran away due to the boredom?" Safana asked.

"Not quite," Lene replied. "I'd only been there a short while when he decided we should leave, and soon. So we did, and we were not far from the gates when we were attacked by bandits, I assume, and he was killed."

Safana nodded slowly. "You are better this way," she said thoughtfully. "Are you sure he sent for you so you could be his daughter? You said yourself that his home was full of monks... not many women within, I'd wager?"

Lene snorted. "An older woman who was so forgetful she could barely remember her name, and some bratty child who I didn't get on with. The rest appeared to be aging scholars."

Safana grinned wickedly. "Then I suspect he might not have had parentage in mind when he thought of you and how old you must have been by then..."

Lene glared at her friend. "Though I lost no love from his demise, I would rather not think along the lines you seem to be incapable of seeing beyond." Safana giggled inanely. Lene sighed again. "The man who killed him, however -- I seem to recall him saying he wanted me handed over."

Safana gave her an appraising look. "There is a trade in slavery and concubines," she states. "It was widespread back home, and even daddy had a few he'd bought. He preferred exotic ones, from far away lands. And you have an agreeable appearance, and are young enough to be trained."

"You sound like you're an expert in the field."

"Like I say, daddy dabbled with them. And my old Captain was fond of the occasional... live export."

Lene smirked. "And did he try and make you into an export, rather than a member of crew?"

Safana's smile widened. "Who could have blamed him if he'd tried," she purred, twisting some strands of her hair in her finger. "I am sure the idea would have become tempting when he'd had enough time to think of it... but I was bored long before then. I abandoned his company and his ship when we drew to port in Baldur's Gate, and left the city not long after -- a liaison with one of the Duke's nephews didn't go down very well at all. A rather handsome merchant agreed to allow me to travel with him in his caravan until we got to Beregost... unfortunately, he didn't take kindly to me giving his son the same attention as I gave him."

Lene grinned and took a taste of the food from the pot on the crude spoon they'd 'borrowed' from a Waterdhavian merchant who had been on his way to Amn. The rabbit was cooked and tender, the gravy had just the right amount of spices in it. It would do.

"I left him with a cold bed and an empty money pouch," the girl continued, her soft voice like vocal silk. "He was probably approaching Nashkel by the time he realised."

Lene grinned. "You didn't leave your father's company that long ago, then," she noted. "You must can't be that much older then me?"

Safana's eyebrow rose. "You sound surprised, darling... Do I really look like some old harpy to you?"

The younger girl frowned. "No, but you speak with such confidence and surety. I suppose you just seem..."

"Older?" Safana sniggered slightly.

"More experienced," Lene replied with annoyance.

"But of course I am, sweetie," Safana chuckled. "After all... I was running away with sailors, while you were on your way to be groomed by an old monk!"

Lene just grunted, serving up the hot food and lapsing into a comfortable silence that they shared while they ate. Then the chatter remained light; each speculating on what they'd do when the gem was sold and they had plenty of coin at their disposal, until night fell properly and they both fell asleep.

Lene could never remember her dreams; she knew she had them, but they were usually just a vague memory when she woke in the morning, and before long she had no recollection of what had happened. She didn't think that was going to happen this time, however.

She felt like she was actually there, but she knew it was wrong. She was with Safana, in the cave -- not standing in the middle of the forest, at the clearing where Gorion fell. And yet, that's where her senses were telling her she was, and she wasn't alone.

Not far away, the elderly sage stood, glaring over to the figures that had attacked them. They all stood as still as statues, frozen in place in the eerie setting. There was not even the slightest breath of wind, and no sound at all to be heard. Lene stood as still as she could, only letting her eyes move around. What the hell was happening?

"And so, here they are," came a familiar, soft, seductive voice. It caused Lene to jump and Safana appeared beside her, coolly looking over at the frozen scene. "The hunted and the hunters. My, the fellow in the middle is rather... large."

Lene followed her gaze, and had to admit that the central, armoured figure certainly appeared to be very tall. A slight woman stood by his side, her features sharp and dark, wearing a slyer look than even Safana usually managed.

"And two ogres," Safana noted, sounding bored. "How terribly dull. Where are all the handsome vagabonds, ready to sweep a woman from her feet?"

"What the hell-"

"Shh," Safana interrupted, her finger raised to her mouth as she smiled over. "It's about to begin!"

And then there was a breeze, and the faint sound of leaves rustling above them. A soft rain began to fall, and Lene frowned. It hadn't rained that night. She was sure of it.

"We are in an ambush." It was Gorion who spoke, but his voice was not his own. It was hollow, emotionless.

"You are perceptive for an old man." The voice from the armoured figure was deep -- as deep as Lene's vague memory could remember, but again, there was no feeling in it. It was as if the figures were reciting the lines just to go through the motions.

"The obligatory exchange," Safana said, her commentary much more alive than either of the other voices. "The good against the bad, the righteous against the dishonourable. Or is it?"

The surroundings swirled, but the ground beneath Lene's feet didn't seem to move as she looked around wildly, startled by the changes. Safana just stood there, her arms crossed, appearing to be quite content in her patient waiting for everything to settle back down. When it did, they were inside. A rumble of thunder echoed from outside.

"_This_ is where you were taken to?" Safana's nose was wrinkled. "How dull." She moved away, running her fingertips along the rack of books that ran the length of the room as her footsteps echoed around. Everything else was covered in dust, and it seemed as if none else had been there in an age. Then two men entered; one striding in confidently, the other following with an exasperated expression. The first man turned to look at his companion.

"I repeat what I said, Gorion," he said brusquely; his voice as cold as the blue robe that swirled around him. "She will not be welcome here."

"She must come, Ulraunt." Gorion held the other man's stare; Lene had to admit that at least he was determined. "I must have her with me; it will be for her own good."

"You are a fool if you think that," Ulraunt snorted. "She will bring you nothing but trouble and heartache."

"No," Gorion said, shaking his head sadly; suddenly appearing weary. "She needs me. She needs someone to protect her and to care for her."

"You are a fool," the Keeper of the Tomes replied, turning away and striding down the hall into the shadows; his footsteps made no sound. "She will do nothing but be the death of you."

And then Gorion melted from view too, and Lene looked over to Safana, who was leaning nonchalantly on a bookcase, one leg crossed over the other, and one elbow resting in the opposite hand, reaching up to her mouth, where she maintained a thoughtful expression.

"How curious," she finally said. "Gorion wanted to protect and care for you. It sounds fatherly enough, doesn't it? But his friend seems to be averse to your arrival... is that because he knows the truth?"

More swirling. Lene closed her eyes this time, to avoid the disorientation that came with it. When she dared to look again, she was standing in the sunshine, outside a simple wooden cabin. It was where her foster parents had taken her on holiday in the summers, beside the sparkling lake and nestled into the sloping foothills.

"What have we here?" Safana asked, waving her hand and causing two figures to appear. One was a tall man, broad of shoulder, and with a black beard that was rough and untamed. The female was plump and homely, rosy cheeked and chestnut-haired. Lene instantly recognised them.

"Mother… father..." she whispered. Safana smiled, and with another flick of her wrist, they came to life. The woman was holding a piece of paper in trembling hands.

"We knew it would come to this," the man sighed, his arm going around his wife's shoulders. She shook her head in denial at him.

"It can't," she said, barely containing a sob. "We can't just send her away. We know what'll happen -- we know why he wants her there!"

"There are worse places for her to be, if what he says will happen does happen," The man sighed. "He is a powerful mage, and she will not survive on her own -- or with us. Let him have her. We've loved her for as long as we can. Now we have to let her go, and let someone else love her in our place."

"But it won't be like our love! How could it?"

"It will have to be enough," the man replied grimly, pulling the woman close into his arms as she dropped the parchment. It slowly drifted to the ground, and Safana stooped down to pick it up. She made a big show of reading it, widening her eyes, and putting one of her hands to her mouth in apparent shock or horror.

"A transfer of love?" she mused, throwing the paper away, and letting it disappear into nothingness as she swaggered back over to Lene. "Except, the love is not the same as theirs... not the same as from the _parents_. I wonder what that means..."

All was made black. Lene felt like she was floating, but she could also still feel the ground beneath her feet. It was strange. She looked around for Safana, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. And then a hand shot out from the dark, grabbing her arm and spinning her round.

"Thought you could get away, eh girlie?" Jeb smiled crookedly at her, a dangerous glint in his eye. "You would have ended up with that old man in your bed, but instead you got me... aren't you glad things happened as they did?"

She struggled against his grip, only noticing that he'd changed when she looked back up to his face. In Jeb's place was Chek, his face sallow and pale, his eyes sunken and bloodshot.

"You'd never killed before, had you?" His voice was barely a whisper, and he grinned at her eyes widening. "Oh yes, you killed me, you did... the others weren't too happy. Made a promise that you'd pay when they got their hands on you an' your friend."

Something appeared in her hand. When she looked down it was the dagger that Safana had given her. She shrieked a little and tried to drop it. It refused to leave her hold.

"Go on. Do it again..."

She shook her head at him, resuming her struggle to break free. His grip was like a vice.

"Go on," Safana purred behind her, taking Lene's hand in her own. "Do it again."

Her resistance disappeared -- she let Safana guide her, drawing back and then lunging forward, plunging the small but sharp blade deep into Chek's body. He disintegrated into nothing, tiny silver specks circling around as they vanished into the gloom.

"Is it so hard?" Safana asked, circling her appraisingly. "You were sent from the parents whom you _thought_ loved you, to a man who pretended he only wanted to be your father, when the love he had differed from that of a parent. What has anyone ever done for you?"

"You've been there for me," Lene replied defiantly; aware that it was a dream, but carried away with it nonetheless.

"Have I?" Safana seemed to consider this. "Yes... yes, perhaps I have been," she smiled, putting her arms around the girl's shoulder. "I'll be here for you _much_ more from now on..."


	5. Chapter 5

Lene didn't mention the dream. It stayed with her, though; refusing to fade from her memory and remaining as vivid as it had been as she'd slept. In the end, she decided to shrug it off -- people had strange dreams all the time, and it _had_ been a traumatic few days. 

Safana decided they were to move on from the cave. Worry that they would soon be discovered by the increasingly frustrated travellers -- who passed too close for comfort and could one day possibly discover their thefts -- was cited as the reason, but Lene was sure there was more to it. Safana loved to be pampered, and loved her comforts. She knew the older woman would get tired of the life in the cave, despite the small luxuries they'd managed to acquire.

"Are we going to the city?" she asked as she packed up the last few things that would fit in her bag. So much would have to be left that would just be too cumbersome to carry, and Lene felt it was quite tragic. The accumulated goods would have been an easy way to make a fairly good profit, but there was no way of transporting them. Still... they had the gem.

"Not yet," Safana purred, hoisting her own considerably lighter bag onto her shoulders. "We will head a bit further north, though, and stick to the coast."

Lene paused. "We'll pass Candlekeep," she said softly. Then she cleared her throat, and secured her bag.

"Does that bother you?"

Lene shook her head grimly. "Not in the slightest," she replied. The other woman nodded, smiling approvingly, and together they left the cave, clambering over the rocks until they reached the golden sands of the long beach that stretched ahead of them. The tide was retreating, the water slowly crawling up the sands and lapping away, making less and less progress with each wave. Several small shells shone slightly in the sunlight, embedded into the sand where they'd been left by the ocean. Occasionally they'd pause to pick one up, pocketing them for later at Safana's suggestion.

"If we get enough, we can perhaps lace them onto some string or twine and sell them to the naive, rich children in the city," she smirked. "They'll buy anything that looks exotic..."

Lene grinned at the idea. It wasn't so hard, being out in the world and looking after yourself. When she'd left her home to travel west to Candlekeep she'd been stricken with fear of the unknown -- but now she was learning to relish the freedom and enjoy the opportunities. She'd been lucky enough to find Safana, as well, and the woman was content to share the company and ensure the younger girl learnt the ways of survival. It looked like she'd had a lucky escape after the old mage had been killed that night...

They spent all morning and most of the afternoon walking, before arriving at the end of the stretch of beach and finding themselves faced with more rocks and caves. Safana led the way, picking a path through the craggy stones and avoiding the rock pools with a look of disdain, until they found themselves standing not far from a very large cave. Seaweed was strewn around the entrance, and the walls were covered with mosses and fungi. The air reeked of salt, and they women were about to move off when they heard a noise.

Instinctively they both ducked, hiding behind a large rock and peering around, cautiously, at the stranger who was making his way down the slope by the cliff. He was dressed in leathers, with a mop of wild hair that fell around his face somewhat raggedly, and a mask of bright turquoise painted on his face. Safana made a low, mildly approving noise as they watched him saunter over to the cavern, a longbow strapped to his back and a quiver full of brightly fletched arrows sitting alongside it. Lene tried not to giggle.

"An interesting choice of clothing," she noted quietly. Safana smirked and nodded. The man wore twists of magenta and green under his armour, and a cloak of sky blue rippled in the wind as it spread out behind him. There was nothing dour about his appearance at all.

He stood, for what seemed like an age to Lene, just looking into the cave; then, cautiously, he made his way inside, eventually disappearing from their view. The women exchanged glances; they'd never seen him before, and it was pretty obvious he wasn't following them...

"Let's follow him," Safana murmured slyly. "He looks an adventuring sort, and if he's here for treasure..."

"The excitement would be too much for him," Lene agreed. "The least we could do would be to liberate him from the pressure of it all..."

With wide grins, they emerged from their hiding place, lightly leaping down from the rocks and quietly approaching the cave entrance. They peered inside -- the man was nowhere to be seen, though a tunnel seemed to wind its way further into the land than they'd originally suspected, and his footprints on the sandy floor betrayed his passing.

Safana nodded, slinking further in and staying close to the walls, using the shadows to conceal herself in wherever possible. Lene followed her example, observing how the older woman moved briskly in the areas of light, and lingered in the darkest of shadows, searching for the next place to move to. Before long the ground turned from sand into rock, and they reached a split in the tunnel. Safana swore under her breath.

"Maybe we should split up," Lene mused, somewhat dubiously. She didn't really want to -- for one thing, she didn't want to run into anything dangerous on her own, and for another, she had no idea on how to be as stealthy and covert as Safana could be without copying the other woman exactly. But she wanted to appear as if she was useful, to a degree. If she wasn't, Safana might one day decide...

_"I'll be here for you _much_ more from now on..."_

Lene jumped slightly as the voice from her dream washed into her mind. She shook her head slightly, as if the physical action could remove the mental presence, and frowned as she forced herself to concentrate on the present situation. Safana was looking at her expectantly; the woman had said something, but Lene had completely missed it.

"Eh, sure?"

Safana gave her a bemused look. "You didn't hear a word I said, did I?" she whispered.

Lene sighed. "No," she admitted. "How did you know?"

"Because I asked which way you'd want to take."

"Ah." Lene could have kicked herself; it was such on obvious question, she should have thought of it and been able to bluff her way around it. Instead, she peered into the two tunnels, wishing her eyesight was a bit better when it came to staring into the darkness. "Well," she said. "He could have gone either way, I guess. No way of telling?"

"Not that I can see," Safana replied lazily. "And we don't know what he was looking for, though... I doubt even _that_ knowledge would be much use since both ways look as dull as each other."

"You could just ask him," came a voice from behind them. Both women jumped, and Lene only just managed to contain the shriek that had forced its way into her mouth. Her hand flew to the hilt of her dagger, which was nestled in her belt, but a quick glance over at Safana quickly cooled her nerve. The older woman had relaxed almost instantly, giving the stranger an appraising look. It was the man they'd followed into the cave.

"You knew we were following you," Safana stated levelly. The man nodded amiably, a wide smile adorning his face. He was leaning on the wall of the cave, his arms folded as he regarded them. He obviously didn't think they were much of a threat. "And so you decided to let us go ahead, so we could encounter any danger before you, and you'd have some warning," the woman concluded. The man looked vaguely hurt at her assessment.

"Not exactly, no," he said, pushing himself away from the wall and slowly wandering over towards them. "Though it _was_ a move of self-preservation, to a degree. I did not want to risk two blades being planted in my back, especially not if they were to come from such lovely specimens as yourselves..."

Safana chuckled slightly, her eyes remaining fixed to him. She licked her lips slightly, considering her next words. It was almost as if she'd forgotten Lene's presence.

"You came here for something," she said confidently. "We saw you enter, and we were... curious. We'd be happy to... help."

The man smiled at her, then shifted his gaze to Lene. She stared back at him blankly.

"And what about you?" he asked, his eyes roaming over her body, and he making no effort to hide it. "Does your friend speak for you both?"

Lene nodded mutely. His smile widened, and he turned his attention back to Safana, holding out his hand. The other woman allowed him to take her own and raise it to his lips, his eyes remaining locked onto hers as he spoke. "Then I am delighted to make your acquaintance," he declared, his eyes sparkling. "My name is Coran, and I am at your service, for... _anything_ that you require..."

The woman smiled widely in return. "You may call me Safana," she purred, in what Lene thought was her most seductive tone. "And we are _terribly_ pleased to meet you. Aren't we, darling?"

Lene nodded as Safana looked over at her, but her eyes remained on the man. He turned to face her, taking her hand and embracing it in a similar manner, though his lips seemed to linger for less time on her skin than they had on Safana's. His smile, however, was warm enough, and he waited expectantly for her to speak.

"I'm Lene," she finally said, shifting uncomfortably at his unblinking stare. "It is good to meet you."

"It seems as though Hanali herself smiles down on me this day," he remarked thoughtfully, his eyes seeming to rest someway below where Safana's actual face was. "To meet such a glorious pair..."

"Hanali?" Safana asked curiously. With the daring and confidence that Lene had become to expect from her, the older woman reached out and brushed a few strands of the man's hair to the side, revealing the fine tip of a pointed ear. She let out a small squeal. "An elf!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "How precious!"

Coran looked amused by her reaction, and bowed his head slightly. "And completely at your command, my lovely," he said, his voice sounding completely sincere. Safana gave Lene a quick, knowing look while his eyes were turned downwards, and the younger girl felt herself beginning to grin. If Safana trusted him, then there was nothing to worry about. And he did _appear_ to be affable enough.

"So tell us," Safana continued, tilting her head slightly to the side as she peered at him from under her long lashes. "What are you doing in a place like this?"

Coran seemed to regard her thoughtfully for a moment, before moving past them both and pointing down the tunnel to their right. "In there," he said softly, "lies the property of a... former acquaintance. I came to collect it."

Safana peered into the gloom with a wrinkled nose. "Such a distasteful hiding place," she declared airily. "I take it his possessions were of great value?"

Coran laughed. "A woman who gets straight to the point, hmm? I think you and I shall get on... _very_ well," he murmured. "I cannot be sure on the exact price of what he left here," the elf continued, returning to the question, "but I have reason to believe that it is defended by the guard he left in its place, and this leads me to believe that it is a worthwhile venture."

Safana nodded slowly. "What kind of guard?" she asked.

"Just a small golem, made from the flesh of the victims of his blade," Coran replied easily. "The magic in it is weak, as it was made cheaply by an apprentice. It was all poor Connolly could afford."

"And what happened to this Connolly?" asked Lene. Coran looked over to her, mildly surprised by her participation in the conversation.

"He spent all his coin on wenches and wine," the elf replied simply. "When he failed to meet his bills, his creditors were... well, they had no real empathy for his plight."

"And you did nothing to aid him?" she asked, frowning slightly. She needed to know how reliable he was; and as if he knew her underlying meaning, he paused slightly, considering her question.

"I would have done whatever I could," he said slowly, "had I known of his needs. Alas, I was gifted the news of his untimely demise while I was on... my own business. A dreadful, dreadful shock, as you can imagine. But I knew he had left some of his goods here, and though it was unfortunate he was not given the time to come and collect them, to repay his debts with them... well. He would be saddened to see them go to waste."

"So, although he's not buried here, we're doing nothing less than grave-robbing, in principle?"

Coran opened his mouth hesitantly, closed it again, and scratched his head. "Well..."

"Fine by me," Lene said, satisfied. "Lead on, then."

The elf just nodded and turned into the darkness of the tunnel. Safana gave Lene an appraising look.

"You never cease to amaze me, darling," the older woman purred, seemingly proud of her young companion. "We'll go far together, you and me."

Lene just smirked and nodded, but in her mind the words began to echo around once again.

_"I'll be here for you _much_ more from now on..."_


	6. Chapter 6

The treasure that Connolly had secreted in the dank, smelly cave, proved to be worth the effort. The guardian golem, however, was not pleased to see them at all, and both Lene and Safana were outclassed by its prowess and its strength. Their latest acquaintance, Coran, managed to fell it -- his arrows sticking from its prone body like a twisted pin-cushion by the end, both the girls suffering minor injuries from the fight.

With the ample coin, several gems (all smaller than the one Safana kept safely beside her breast), small, golden statuettes and old-looking parchments all safely placed inside various bags and sacks, they trio made their way back to the beach. Safana wanted to head further north before stopping for the evening, and none of the wounds proved to be an obstacle for her demands. The sun was beginning to set when they found the small cove, sheltered at both side by high, rock faces, and apparently safe from the tides of the sea that could only lap so far up the steeper parts of the beach.

Coran proved his worth again, by expertly producing two luxurious looking bedrolls, and placing them on the ground, with some folded blankets as pillows. He motioned for the two girls to take them, smiling charmingly the whole time, and then rummaged for some bandages and ointments as Lene collected some of the drier pieces of driftwood, depositing them in a neat pile and beginning the task of making a small fire.

She watched the elven man carefully peel away Safana's ripped and torn sleeve, cleaning her wound with a cloth and some water from a flask, before rubbing the cream into the split between the skin. Safana winced, once, at that point, before regaining her composure and allowing him to wrap the bandage around. He offered the older woman another smile, then waited patiently for Lene to finish lighting the fire.

She offered her own injury to him as the flames danced and crackled on the tinder. The golem had relied solely on its strength to protect its master's belongings, but months of being unkempt has allowed it to develop claws that were both sharp and filthy. Her own wound was, arguably, worse than Safana's -- it was deeper, and it stretched across her shoulder blade, running almost from the base of her neck, down and across to her side. Her dress was ruined.

His hands were deft and gentle as he pulled away the ripped fabric, and she heard him tut slightly under his breath. Lightly, his fingers ran over the incision, and she flinched openly; cursing herself as she did. His hand was withdrawn, and his slow drawl punctured her self-berating.

"You'll need to remove the whole thing."

She turned her head to scowl at him; he gave her a bemused look in return, and a lazy shrug.

"The cut is deep and long, the dress has deteriorated badly. I won't be able to tend it unless you remove it."

She glanced over to Safana; the older woman's lips were pursed, and she did not look very happy by the prospect, but she nodded to her young companion wordlessly, then turned away and gazed out towards the sea with a detectable chill to her actions. Lene hesitated for a few more moments, then grudgingly stood up and looked for her bag.

The elf reached over, behind her, and held the pack up for her. She took it from his grasp, managing to mumble a thank you, and retreated away, slightly, looking for something else to put on. Anything covering the shoulder was out of the question, making her already limited collection of clothes prove to be useless. In the end, she pulled out one of the spare blankets, and cautiously began to undress; watching to make sure that the elf was paying her no attention.

His eyes were fixed to Safana's form, however, and the older woman's coldness had melted slightly. She was rewarding his charming smile with an alluring look, and Lene took advantage of this to quickly peel her dress away, and wrap the blanket around her body as much as she could. It provided a poor coverage, though with some careful adjustment the girl could ensure that she was decent while keeping her now throbbing wound uncovered.

She sat back down beside Coran, not failing to notice the approval glinting in his eyes as he took in her form. Safana had already turned back to the sea, and was blissfully unaware of his unfaithfulness in that degree; Lene felt almost embarrassed to be subjected to it, knowing, as she did, that the older woman had made the silent claim to the elf. Lene had no intention of complicating things needlessly.

His hands returned to her skin -- then there was the sensation of water, brief spasms of pain as he applied pressure and force on occasion. Scents of oak and thyme drifted around as he rubbed the salve into her wound; it burned, for a while -- a hot, fiery sensation, before dulling down into a calmer pulsation. He paused, frowning slightly as he regarded her injury, weighing the length of bandage which remained in his hands.

"The location of it makes it difficult to bind," he noted, seemingly to himself. "Unless..."

Without another word, he pulled at her blanket, allowing it to fall down around her waist. She gasped, slapping his hand away as he chuckled; shrugging helplessly over to Safana as the woman stared at the scene critically.

"The only way to dress it is to wrap around you. You will need to raise your... arms."

She did as he instructed, glaring at him as he regarded her chest with an obvious expression of appreciation, and squirmed uneasily each time his arms wrapped around her, passing the bandage from one hand to another. The binding started low and he worked his way up, taking special care as he encased her breast in its confines. Eventually it was done, and she haughtily grabbed the blanket, ensuring that it preserved what little dignity she had left as she moved herself away to one of the bedrolls, declining his offer of food, and lying with her back to them.

She closed her eyes tightly, willing herself to sleep as Safana slowly got over her irritation with the elf's misplaced attentions; the seductive voice purring and cooing in the background, as his own charming words were levelled at the older human with the air of one practiced and experienced at the art.

Thankfully, she was asleep before long. Unfortunately, Safana had decided to visit her dream-world once again.

This time they sat, side by side, on a rock that jutted out into the sea. Safana was throwing pebbles into the water as the waves rippled endlessly towards the stone underneath them. She looked different, though, this time. She looked younger. She smiled over to Lene; a frightening, calculated grin with a hint of malice in her eyes.

"He wants you, you know," she remarked casually. Another pebble was thrown. "You're younger, prettier... why wouldn't he want you?" A long pause ensued. "Of course, I want him, and I always get first choice, don't I? We agreed. Didn't we?"

"Of course we did," Lene replied, slightly annoyed by the implication that she wouldn't stick to their agreement. "Anyway, I'm not interested in him."

"Oh." Safana's eyebrow arched and she raised one finger to her lips as she struck a poise of extreme, exaggerated thoughtfulness. "So, I can have him, because you don't want him?"

"That's not what I meant!" Lene protested. "Why are you twisting my words?"

"Am I? Why are you becoming so defensive if you don't want him for yourself?" The older woman leaned closer, her face only inches from Lene's. "Remember... I know you. I'll always be with you. You won't be able to hide from me... you won't be able to hide what you feel from me."

"I'm not hiding anything," Lene said desperately. Why wouldn't she listen? Why was she being so aggressive?

Safana just laughed. The sky changed colour, from bright blue, to blood red. The sea adopted the scarlet hue, the froth from the waves gleaning eerily. The older woman leaned just a little closer, her lips brushing Lene's ear gently as she whispered.

"You cannot lie to me... I won't let you lie to me. You need to learn this..."

With a sudden display of strength, Safana pushed Lene from her perch, allowing the girl to plunge into the sea where she flailed in the crimson currents, fighting the downward pull that was trying to grip her whole body. She screamed, looking up at the other woman who looked back down at her with a satisfied expression.

"You will obey me..."

Lene managed one final shriek as the water swirled around, dragging her down into its depths, and quickly filling the void above, obscuring the cliff and the sky. Her energy was slowly sapping away, her lungs were beginning to burn as they yearned for air. Could she really drown in a dream?

Then she saw the figure, swimming over to her. It was the elf, smiling as he usually did. He was having no such problems with breathing, seemingly at home within the swell of the sea as he swam around her. His hand was extended, gently touching her cheek, but she felt nothing. The desire to breathe was too much, and her mouth opened enough for the water to pour in, flooding her internally as it drove her life away.

Lene woke with a start, sitting up abruptly as she tried to regain control of her erratic breathing. Night had fallen; she wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, but it had been at least a few hours. She closed her eyes, bowing her head over her knees as she fought away the remnants of the dream and calmed herself down. It was only as her breathing returned to its normal rhythm that she was aware of the noises; the heavy breathing, the soft moans, the slight rustling of the bedding. Slowly she turned and looked over to the other bedroll, across the now died-out fire.

Safana lay on it, like a goddess bathed in the moonlight glow. Her body was naked, save for the bandage that the elf had applied earlier, and her milky white skin was glistening with sweat as she writhed with pleasure. Atop her was Coran, his body arched one moment, then pressed dangerously close to the woman's the next. His clothing, too, had been discarded, and Lene could make out muscles and tattoos on his arms, his own sweat making his frontal lock of hair damp and dishevelled.

Neither of them paid any attention to her; so quietly, she lay back down, turning her back to them and trying to ignore the sounds of their lust as they continued their pleasure-seeking well into the night.

**  
**


	7. Chapter 7

Coran had held the jewels in his hands, examining them carefully and allowing his slender fingers to run over their smooth surfaces and roughly cut edges. Take them to the city soon, he'd said, while the rich were still happy to throw their money around on anything pretty. There was apparently some crisis over iron that was causing the people to grow fearful about their safety, and even the rich were beginning to keep a careful eye on their spending. It was best, he said, to make a profit before they had enough sense to think about where their coin was going.

Lene had been avoiding eye contact with the elf since the first night of his intimacy with Safana. It had turned into the first night of many, and the younger girl was almost dreading the fall of the sun, knowing that she'd go from nightmares in the dream world, to nightmares in reality at some point during the night.

There were two things, though, that bothered her. One, simply, was that Safana and Coran never seemed to be... at peace. It didn't matter what hour Lene was cursed to waken at, the erotic activities of her companions would be in, quite literally, full flow.

The other, more disturbing thing, was that she knew _why_ it was bothering her. The men she'd bedded in Beregost, each merely serving as a quick way to earn some coin, had always been rough with her; the elf had been the first man to touch her so gently. And she'd found it pleasurable; he wasn't exactly how she'd expected an elf to look -- she remembered the tales of their beauty and elegance -- but... her heart had quickened as his hands made contact with her skin, and the quickness of Safana's claim on him after that only served to unearth an emotion she'd been fairly unfamiliar with until that point.

She felt jealous.

It was stupid, of course: such a strong feeling could easily destroy a friendship, and what would be the point of it? There were plenty of men, and elves, in the lands, and there would certainly be plenty in the city. But no matter how much she tried to explain it to herself, the low-lying, throbbing lust just became more and more obvious the more she tried to control and quench it.

And it seemed that at least one of her companions had also noticed her awkwardness.

"What tragedy has occurred to cause such a radiant face to wear that downcast expression?"

Lene maintained her avoidance of eye contact, fixing her site to a monolith on a nearby hill, separated from her by a valley full of wildflowers and brambles. They were on their way to Baldur's Gate, crossing the country by Coran's lead and heading towards an immense forest that lay in the distance. Between them and it, however, was Candlekeep -- not in their direct path, but visible from their current vantage point if she screwed her eyes up and peered enough. She was surprised to find that she wasn't too bothered at all about passing so close to it.

She _was_bothered about Coran's carefully positioned body, his chest almost touching her back, and his head angled so that when he spoke, the words were murmured gently into her ear, and the warmth of his breath brushed across her neck. Safana had made herself scarce, explaining that she had 'feminine issues' to attend, and that she'd rejoin them within the hour. It had taken the elf exactly one minute to begin his careful advances.

Lene shifted, making no effort to be subtle about her repositioning further away from his body. She kept her gaze firmly on the distant monument and ignored the fact she could barely make out anything about it other than its presence on the opposing hill.

"We are due to pass somewhere that does not hold pleasant memories for me," she replied, hesitantly, but not untruthfully.

The elf's eyebrow rose slightly. She could feel his eyes roaming over her. "The home you ran away from?" he enquired candidly.

She shot him a look; his eyes were amused, but the rest of his face remained serious. This was just a game for him. "So you _do_ spend, at least some time, in conversation with my friend," she sniped. "I wondered if you were even aware of each others names."

"My! What an errant display of envy," he chuckled. "There is plenty of me to go around, you know. No woman, save for the Goddess Hanali herself, can contain my heart for long."

Lene glared at him. "You flatter yourself."

"And so do you," he noted lazily, moving to settle himself on one of the rocks nearby, basking in the sun. "I'm no stranger to the ways of a woman when she's faced by a temptation; especially when she_knows_ she shouldn't feel like that..."

"I don't feel anything," Lene lied curtly. "You've happened to join us and become... close to my friend. And now you're accompanying us to the city. It's as simple as that."

"Of course it is." He sounded smugly sure or his sarcasm. She felt her teeth clenching as she scowled. It only served to make him grin wider. "Oh, come now! Why do you fight it? Life is too short -- especially for a human -- to be so morally inclined!"

She felt her face flushing. "I think it would be best," she said, trying to be as calm as possible, and cautiously making her way past him so she could pretend to busy herself with her previously discarded pack, "if we just waited quietly for Safana-"

She'd not been careful enough. A quick grab from the elf secured her wrist in his hand, and she'd been pulled to stand before him, his arms wrapping around to ensure she was pressed _very_ firmly against his body. She was momentarily lost for words, and he used this to his complete advantage.

"You are so very full of life, my lovely Lene," he said. He was almost purring -- she couldn't help but think of him as a male version of the woman he moulded himself against each night. His face was inching its way closer and closer to hers. "And Safana and I lay no claims to each other, so I do not understand why you feel the need to be so... fearful of her."

She brought her knee up swiftly, but then cried out in pain as Coran's carefully placed armour made its existence known. He let her go free from his arms to tend her leg as he grinned widely.

"Some things are worth protecting," he said suggestively. "And one day, you'll find that out for yourself!"

Lene cast him a dark look before she hobbled over to her pack, trying her hardest to ignore him as she rummaged through the few and boring items she had. How _dare_ he! How dare he suggest he knew what she wanted! He didn't even know her, and he certainly couldn't know that... that... that he was right! She pulled a book from her bag that she'd found in the cave they'd looted when they met the elf, and slammed it down on the ground violently. To her annoyance, he was still watching her, and still grinning widely. He even had the audacity to wink. She purposefully turned her back on him.

Soon they'd be at the city, and she could avoid him easier then -- let Safana play with him until she got bored, then he'd be out of their lives forever. And then... and then there'd just be someone else. And what if she felt this jealousy again? She sighed heavily, rearranging some shawls at the bottom of her belongings that she'd forgotten she had. It hadn't been this hard before, when they'd been in Beregost. Every night there'd been men, willing to pay good coin for some time in their company; and Safana had _always_ had first choice. She'd saved Lene, after all -- who knew how badly things could have gone had she not met the older woman.

The problem was, the men Safana chose were the ones Lene would probably choose... which had been less problematic when all that was at stake was one night. But now... now, with the jewels and their other potential riches, they didn't need to rely on being courtesans. They could take any man they wanted, out of choice rather than necessity. Lene wasn't looking for anything with commitment, but... if they shared the same taste, and Safana always got first choice...

_I'll always be with you..._

She shuddered involuntarily as Safana's smooth words echoed in her head. Of course, Safana wasn't known for her attachments to the opposite gender, so there was every chance that Lene would still be able to get a taste for what she wanted. But... well, why _should_ she have to wait?

She cast a coquettish look over her shoulder at the elf. He'd gone back to sunning himself, but as if he had a sensor to determine a female's attention, he quirked his head to look over and meet her eye. He grinned, and she felt herself smiling to him, before turning away and neatly packing her belongings back up again.

Why should she wait, at all?

It seemed like an age before Safana reappeared, looking refreshed and ready to march on. Lene had deliberately kept herself busy with whatever small tasks she could find; mending some of her older dresses with what little thread and patches she could find, polishing her dagger until it shone brightly under the sun. Coran made no further moves towards her, and she was prepared to bide her time until Safana was preoccupied with something else. The older woman couldn't keep her eyes on her elven lover all day and all night, after all... though, perhaps, all night was more likely than day...

They marched down the gently rolling slope of the hill and through a meadow full of bright red poppies. Coran spoke lightly to Safana, laughing merrily and plucking the largest bloom he could find to thread it into the woman's long flowing hair. Lene walked past as they openly kissed, an icy feeling gripping at her insides. She was happy to walk on for as long as possible; not only would it mean they reached the city faster, but she would be more likely to fall asleep at nights, and not have to be exposed to the nocturnal activities of her companions.

Before long they joined up with the main road, surprisingly busy for such dangerous times. Traders had taken to travelling in groups, hoping for safety in numbers, it seemed, and no one paid a bit of attention to three more adventuring souls joining the convoy. They fell into line behind a particularly large wagon that was being pulled by two huge dappled grey mares. Walking behind it were two bored looking guards, who gave Lene a curt nod before turning back to the road ahead and continuing their march.

With her two companions still whispering sweet nothings to each other like lust-obsessed teenagers, Lene found her attention drifting to the conversation before her. The wagon, it seemed, had been on its monthly trip to Candlekeep with provisions. The guard to her left had gone with it; the other guard appeared to be from one of the other merchant caravans from Beregost, exchanging his news with his comrade to make the journey pass more pleasantly. Lene let the sound of their voices drift into her hearing.

"Never seen such an atmosphere there before," the first guard was saying quietly, shaking his head as he spoke. "In all the years I've done this run, keepin' an eye on the wagon... It's never been the friendliest o' places, mind. Lucky if we're allowed in fer a night if we arrive late, because we don't carry one o' their precious books, but... Never seen it like it was this time."

"Roads are dangerous," the other remarked matter-of-factly. "He shoulda known."

"He were a powerful mage, they say," his friend countered. "More'n powerful enough to protect himself, an' the girl. But his body was found not a day later by a scout."

"And the girl?"

"Took a bit longer, but she'd been killed too. Taken every last scrap she had, save for the clothes on her back they said. Mindless, it is. Mindless! Imagine killin' a young, defenceless girl!" They both shook their heads in wonder and lapsed into a prolonged silence.

Lene frowned for a moment, then smiled softly. So; they thought she was dead? Perhaps that was for the best... now she wouldn't have to fear any of the old man's friends trying to find her.


	8. Chapter 8

They stayed in the relatively safe anonymity of the convoy until they arrived at the Friendly Arms Inn, and then covertly moved away from the others, bypassing the guards and their lengthy, boring rules, and sauntering into the grassy, landscaped area that was the sanctity of the fortress.

Both Coran and Safana had been customers of the inn before; they walked, lazily, arm-in-arm to the steep stairs that led up to the first floor of the main building and to a large, oaken and impressive looking doorway. Lene trailed along behind them, feeling, to all intents and purposes, as the bedraggled serving girl to the King and Queen of the Travelling Roads; Safana and Coran glided along, laughing, smiling. All that was missing was an occasional affected wave to the peasants they passed; they might as well have been dressed in luxurious silks and chiffons, with jewels and crowns bedecking them, rather than the plain and torn leathers and cloth that made their garb.

Somehow, on the way to the Inn, Lene had ended up carrying not only her own bag, but Safana's too. Then, slowly but surely, she'd ended up with more and more of the elf's belongings as well, until she was fully laden and the other two were free to treat the expedition as some quaint trip to the countryside. It was only now, though, that she was beginning to get irritated by it all; there was a stone in her boot that had made its appearance felt quite some time ago, and Lene was sure a blister was well on the way to developing. She expected nothing less than a room of her own, a hot bath, and some peace and quiet, away from her friend and her friend's pet elf before they continued, once again, on the roads towards Baldur's Gate.

She took the steps slowly, trying to keep her balance while not dropping any of the bags, pouches, belts and clips that she carried. It was tricky work -- she could barely see the way ahead, and relied on her feet -- both the injured one, and the uninjured -- to tell her where the next step was, more or less sliding up against the wall as she climbed. She managed to get to the top without incident -- she didn't, however, manage to make it to the doors.

The force was enough to knock her backwards, making her stumble dangerously close to the edge of the stairs. Her hands instinctively shot forward to aid with her balance, allowing most of her belongings to drop unceremoniously to the floor while she staggered, flailed, and then composed herself. A muttered curse was all she received from the robed man who billowed past her before he started snapping curt commands to some other unfortunate souls. Lene sighed heavily and glared into space for some moents before she began the slow process of picking everything up, her temper frayed; wishing nothing more than to escape to the privacy of her own room as soon as was humanely possible.

"'Ere, let me 'elp." The owner of the strong, but softly spoken accent knelt down beside her, gathering some of the scrolls that had spilt from Coran's pack and neatly stacking them together while she hurriedly gathered up the pouches and bags containing their more attention grabbing merchandise. Between the two of them, it didn't take long for everything to be gathered up and the stranger held onto the parchments as he held the doors open for her, allowing Lene to make it safely inside at last.

Coran and Safana were already perched at the bar, blissfully ignorant of the difficulty she was having as they sipped at their drinks, their eyes locked on each other in the most naseous display Lene had had the misfortune of witnessing yet. She managed to mutter a thank you to the boy who'd offered her his aid, and ignored him as he continued to pad after her as she made her own way to the counter, snatching at the key lying beside Safana's arm with one hand while dropping the other woman's pack, and almost throwing Coran's own bag into his lap. She didn't let go of the gem bags, however.

"That'll be a room for me, then," she said, somewhat curtly and abruptly turning away. "You'll understand if I'll have a room to myself tonight -- it's been a long day, and I think we _all_ deserve a bit of luxury."

She doubted they even heard her -- no protests were made, and only the faintest murmur of acknowledgement escaped from their lips as she stalked off towards the carpeted stairs leading up to the rooms. A number was inscribed on her key, much to her relief, so she finally allowed herself to relax and take in her surroundings. The inn was clean and large, bustling with travellers from all walks of life. Noblemen and women lounged in one corner of the room, on padded chairs teeming with cushions and drapes, while large goblets and decanters of wine littered the tables around them. A huge fireplace had been lit despite the warm day, and several of the younger stately women were fanning themselves with exquisitely designed implements made from feathers and cloth.

Set a little away, and taking up the majority of the rest of the space, were wooden tables and stools, providing seats for the lower classed folk passing through the settlement. A few paintings hung from the wooden walls around the room, each telling their own tale of a particular hero and their fight against the evils threatening the lands. Armoured men and women featured prominently in them, alongside colourful dragons and orcs, shown as even more mutated than normal. Lene snorted and shook her head.

A large archway led through to the kitchens, steam and smoke from the ovens wafting through the air slowly as a man and a woman, both, dashed around preparing food for the demanding customers. Pots and pans hung from hooks on the wall and covered most surfaces, while rows of shelves of boxes and bottles were raided by the two cooks each time they passed. The bustle in the kitchen was a lively distraction from the more sedate nature of the common room, where the visitors were content enough to sit amongst each other and share a tale or two while they ate and drank.

Lene felt a slight pang of loneliness; while spending time with Safana and Coran might be beyond her patience, having some kind of company would be welcome after the long journey. But even though the other travellers from their convoy had begun to arrive in the inn and arrange for rooms for the evening, she felt no empathy or interest towards them at all. They were old, or dull, or both; she wanted something a bit more interesting to amuse herself with.

And then he cleared his throat, and she paused on the bottom step of the stairs, turning to see the stranger who had helped her with her belongings. He was still following her like a puppy, a bunch of their scrolls held tightly in his arms. Her irritation flared and passed in an instant, and she offered him a warm, sly smile.

"Would you mind, terribly, taking them up to my room for me? I'd be _ever_ so obliged..."

---

His name was Jopi. He'd seen seventeen summers, most of them on the farm where his parents lived; the last couple, though, had been spent in the city under the tutelage of his uncle. He'd given Lene his life story in between gasps and moments of breathlessness, while leaning back against the stone wall of her room, his breeches down around his ankles. She let him talk; she was in no position to provide pleasant conversation, after all, and she found his accent quaint and his mannerisms amusing. He'd launched into his life story the moment she'd advanced upon him, seductively whispering into his ear as she worked her way down his body to his belt as a display of her gratitude for his help. Now, red-cheeked and flushed, he was hastily arranging his trousers once more, his shaking hands the biggest sign of his fluster. She casually walked across to the other side of the room -- it was much larger than she could even have hoped for -- and poured a glass of water. When he'd finally made himself decent, she held it out to him, unable to stop herself feeling bemused as he carefully avoided meeting her eyes as he accepted her gesture.

He cleared the glass in one large drink, just as an older, more experienced man may have taken his spirits. He was still trembling when he handed the empty tumbler back to her, and her heart finally softened enough for her to motion to him to sit down. He did so, nervously; his eyes drifted to the door on more than one occasion and the girl -- only older than him by a year, herself -- suddenly realised the reason for his discomfort. She raised one hand to her lips, her brow arching in surprise only momentarily, her half-smirk being forced away as she tried to fight the urge to laugh. _Seventeen summers old, and he's never..._ She shook her head slightly, padding over to sit next to him on the bed, offering him her most predatory smile. Several long moments passed before she watched him gulp nervously, and slowly shift his eyes to meet hers. She gazed at him demurely.

"So tell me, Jopi," she purred, reaching out with her hand to touch the skin on his throat with one slender finger. "Are you on your way to, or from, the city?" Her finger slowly traced a line downwards, over his tunic, playfully fiddling with each of the buttons standing in its way. He remained very still, completely at her mercy.

"'m actually on my way back to the farm," he said slowly, his voice still hoarse despite the refreshment of the water. Lene just nodded, drawing her hand away from his abdomen and up to his arms, fingering at the skin underneath his shirt. There were definitely muscles under there -- the farm work had given him brawn, if nothing else, and she found herself imagining the toned flesh that lay before her, covered by only the flimsiest of materials...

"Shame that," she whispered, her eyelashes batting heavily, her head tilted to one side. "My... companions, and I, are heading to the city. You could have... accompanied us."

He swallowed hard again, and only his blinking eyelids dared to move under her touch. She leant forward, enjoying the game more than she'd enjoyed anything in a long time, until she could feel his breath on her cheek. Then she closed her eyes, smiling widely as his trembling increased tenfold. Delicately, she moved around towards his ear, pausing momentarily.

"Dine with me, this eve. I would enjoy the company, and we can always arrange for dessert to be served up... here."

---

She had no clothes fit for any purpose other than travelling in, so after Jopi had all but ran from her room, Lene grabbed her money-pouch and wandered out onto the magnificent landing of the first floor of the Friendly Arms Inn. The central area was devoted to seating and relaxation, with sofas and chairs and stools and tables situated on a magnificently thick woollen rug. Several vendors were making the most of what remained of the afternoon, and had their wares spread out on every conceivable surface to tempt the passers by making their way to and from their rooms. The air smelt of honey and mustard, of pickles and various freshly cut flowers that were being sorted through by a young girl with two large, golden ear-rings. Lene perused the wares, with the interest of a keen shopper, but the disinclination to purchase anything unnecessary that would make her bags all the more heavier for carrying to the city.

It wasn't long before she arrived beside a wizened old woman, bent double over the fabric on the table before her as she stitched and cut with amazing speed and accuracy. The young girl paused, her eye caught by a snatch of violet taffeta that was almost completely covered by piles of yarn. She let out an audible squeak, craning her head to see if there was enough material for a dress when the older woman stopped in her work and peered over to her.

"You've seen something you like, miss?" she asked, her voice raspy, her eyes following the path Lene's had taken, and a toothless smile crossing her face as she reached for the fabric and pulled it free, placing it on the table before her and smoothing it out. Lene's eyes widened -- it was beautiful.

"Had this for the best part o' a year, now," the woman muttered, her calloused hands examining every inch of the garment. "Began makin' it for a girl in the Gate -- but she didn't have the style to do it justice, so I gave her something else instead. But you..." The woman looked up abruptly, casting a critical eye over Lene and causing the young girl to feel almost unbearably embarrassed of her dishevelled hair, the lack of paint on her face, and the state of her current clothing. But it seemed to matter not -- whatever the woman saw was enough to appease her, and she whipped out a measuring tape from a leather bag lying on the chair next to her makeshift counter.

"Let me get the measurements," she said briskly, feeding her tape around Lene's body until she was satisfied with the information. She looked back down at the dress and nodded. "Aye, it'll be a perfect fit for the bodice," she murmured, as if to herself. "And I can tidy the up the skirt, and get the hemming done right and proper." She peeked at Lene. "When would ye be wantin' it for, miss?"

---

It fit like a dream; it fit as if it had been made especially for her from scratch, and not just altered earlier that day for a quick sale. The price had been low, too -- the woman seemed to be more grateful to have found a use for the half-made dress than caring about the price, and Lene paid only half what she was expecting it to cost. It had taken an hour of work to finish it off; the skirt had been gathered and plaid at the back, and some white, flowery lace had been added around the bodice and sleeves for decoration. Lene couldn't stop looking at her reflection in the mirror as she ran her hands over the silky material time and time again.

She started when there was a knock at the door, and then smiled to herself, quickly checking her appearance one final time. Her hair had been washed and pinned up in a fashionable style, and it gleamed in the light from the fire in room's hearth. She'd painted her face -- less than she would have back in Beregost, but enough to accentuate her lips and eyes, and to cover the few blemishes and freckles she'd found on her skin. Then, finally, with a nod to her reflection, she turned and moved to the door, readying her most coy smile in order to meet her dinner date for the evening as she opened it. She froze in place, the smile rapidly disappearing as she realised it was not Jopi.

"Sweetling..." Coran sounded surprised for the first time since meeting him, and his eyes roved over her body as they took in her whole appearance, before settling comfortably on the sight of her amply supported bosom. "Have I died, and been blessed with an angel in Arvandor?"

She forced herself to scowl at him, slamming the door shut in his face, then raising her hand to mouth to stifle a girlish giggle. No matter how much she wanted to pretend that his opinion didn't matter to her, his obvious reaction to her pleasing look had sent both a shiver down her spine, and a flush to her cheeks. She fanned herself quickly with her hand, and jumped as another knock echoed through the door. This time, however, she was prepared; she bent down and peered through the keyhole, unsurprised to discover that it was still the determined elf. Forcing the frown back on her face, she opened the door once more.

He smiled broadly at her. "I, ah, just wanted to give you this," he said, extending his arm and offering her a single rose which she hesitantly accepted. "I had also intended to request your company this eve, on behalf of Safana and myself, but I... trust that you have other plans?"

She smiled serenely to him, bringing the flower closer to her face and sniffing the bloom delicately. Their eyes remained locked together for the duration. "I have," she said, her voice as silken as the material covering her body, her eyes only shifting to look beyond the elf as another figure appeared, lingering some distance from her room's doorway and fidgeting nervously. "So," she continued, her eyes flickering back to Coran before she turned away, grabbing her bag and her key from the small bedside table, and replacing them with the floral gift from the elf. "If you will excuse me," she said, her voice more sultry than she'd planned; her body squeezing past his as she emerged onto the landing and closed the door behind her, locking it quickly before offering Coran one last, satisfied smile, before she glided over to the dumbstruck Jopi, his eyes widened in surprise as he noted her dress. With some gentle coercion from Lene, the young man remembered to offer her his arm, and she accepted it graciously, walking by his side as they descended the stairs to the common room.

She felt Coran's eyes on her all the way.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: For some reason, Jopi kept speaking (in my head) like 'Sam' from Lord of the Rings. Or, in other words, he was Cornish... I don't know why, but there you go. And please do excuse -- this story will probably be a bit non-canon at times, so feel free to point out anything wrong, but.. whether or not it gets changed will depend utterly on what it is, how much it affects what I intend to do, and if it's so bad that it really, _really _needs to be changed :) Anyway, to anyone reading (don't be shy, please say hi!)... enjoy :)_

--- 

The common room was quiet when they arrived downstairs, a lull before the rush for the evening meal; most people were still preparing themselves for the sociality of it all. It was strange to Lene's eyes, in a way -- the Friendly Arms was a main port of call for all sorts of travellers on the roads, most of whom travelled in the simplest of clothing, or, like Coran, in traditional adventurer's garb. Yet, as soon as they'd arranged their rooms at the inn, the women (especially) would crack out their fanciest clothes before descending to dine, like princesses on their way to socialise with their peers. The nobility were the worst, of course; laden down with jewelled necklaces, pearl ear-rings, ridiculous golden tiaras and gowns of silk and velvet. Their male companions were little better; freshly laundered and starched breeches, shirts with plumes and ruffles, and caps with feathers that were far too long. But even the simplest of merchant's wife would appear bedecked in the family jewels, looking as resplended as possible in the one dress she'd lovingly tend to, carefully packed away when they travelled, and only brought out for special occassions.

Of course, the rule didn't apply to everyone -- lurking in the corners, and around the edges of the room, usually, were the world-weary; tired-looking and hardened figures, nursing a mug full of their choice of beverage and paying little attention to the scene around them. Still cloaked in their travelling capes, more often than not, and having not even spent a coin to use the baths before settling down to the safety and relative peace of the inn.

She could feel Jopi's arm trembling slightly as they walked to a table near the centre of the room, and she stole a quick glance up to his face to see he was biting his lip. Despite his nerves, he pulled her chair free from the confines of the table and waited until she'd settled herself comfortably before moving to seat himself opposite. All the time, he avoided meeting her eyes, busying himself, instead, with the matters of arranging his clothing to maintain his neatness.

Lene had to admit he looked quite, quite delicious. For a farmer's son, he cleaned up well, and his clothing was understated but quite magnificent. Black breeches were decorated, only slightly, with silver stitching, and a simple grey tunic matched, with onyx buttons and tailored sleeves. Two runes were inscribed on the wrists of the garment, and she cocked her head to one side and looked back up to his face.

"What do those symbols mean?" she asked, causing him to jump slightly at the sound of her voice. He met her eyes briefly, before letting his gaze flicker down to them. A small smile graced his face.

"They were sewn on by me uncle's 'ousekeeper," he said. "'e asked 'er to do it for me when 'e started teaching me. Said I'd need something to keep reminding me what I was, now."

She smiled over to him; not the same smile as before, however. This one was not predatory or sly -- instead, it was friendly and light. He instantly seemed to relax a little bit.

"And what are you, now?" she asked, settling her hands on the table before her and interlocking the fingers as she watched him. He grinned sheepishly.

"Nothing overly exciting," he said, fidgeting in his seat. "Me uncle's a wizard in the city, an' e's teaching me some o' the basics."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Wow," she said breathlessly; he was not just a simple son of a farmer, after all. "So you're training to be a mage?"

He flushed shyly, but was able to meet her gaze more easily, it appeared, than before. This made her feel much happier, for some reason.

"Sort o'," he said, following a short pause. "Me older brother, Sadi, works wi' me pa to learn how to run the farm. Ain't enough in the way o' work for the two o' us, let alone me younger brothers an' sisters as well, so me ma and pa 'ave been trying to find us all different jobs."

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?" Lene asked, her curiosity piqued. It had been a long time since she'd had anyone... normal to talk to.

"As well as Sadi?" Jopi paused for a moment, frowning in concentration. "Got myself three younger brothers an' two younger sisters. Well..." His face fell, and suddenly the smile from his face vanished. "One sister, I suppose."

Lene's eyebrow rose and she opened her mouth to enquire to his meaning, but was interrupted as a shadow fell over the table. The waitress informed them of the specials on offer that day, and answered Jopi's questions regarding the available drinks; and, eventually, they ordered a platter large enough for two, with as much variety on it as was possible, and a large carafe of wine to go with it.

Jopi's fingers were drumming on his other hand by the time the serving girl left, and Lene decided against pushing the matter over his sister any further at that point. Instead, she took a long look around the room to give him some time to relax again, and she managed to find Safana and Coran with relative ease, despite the room steadily filling with impending diners.

Her friend was looking stunning as she leaned over the table, eyeing her companion seductively; she wore a deep green dress that Lene had only ever seen her wearing once before in Beregost, shortly after they'd met -- when Safana had managed to target a visiting Count for her trade. This time it was complemented by several wildflowers strewn through her silky, loose hair which Lene didn't doubt that the elf had picked for her earlier.

He was as colourful as usual; a magenta shirt was open at the neck and loose on his lithe figure. Flared mustard-coloured trousers swished around a pair of vibrant red boots, and he was leaning back in his chair -- almost reclined -- in a position of absolute ease and comfort.

Safana's finger was tracing the rim of her cup, and she was looking down at whatever lay inside. Coran watched her for a moment, but his gaze didn't linger for long. Soon it was sweeping across the rest of the room, and upon locating Lene, it stopped and settled. A lop-sided smile adorned his face, and he nodded his head in her direction subtly.

She gave him only the barest hint of a grin before turning back to her dining companion. He was playing with something; twisting and turning a ring worn on the middle finger of his right hand. It wasn't a large trinket, but it shone in the light. She peered over to it.

"It's from me ma," he said, smiling over to her. "So I wouldn't forget 'er when I'm in the city."

Lene smiled back to him. "That's sweet," she said, more sincerely than she'd imagined possible. Her heart seemed to shudder for a moment; what did she have to remind her of the parents she'd been forced to leave? Nothing... she sighed quietly.

"What about you, m'lady? Are you on your way to your parents?" He was looking slightly concerned at her sudden melancholy, and she shook her head slightly.

"I left home, not so long ago," she said, slowly, carefully. "Decided to see a bit of the world, experience life a little." She smiled weakly. "We're on the way to the city, now. Are you heading that way?"

"Ah, no," he said, almost apologetically, lowering his face once more. "I got message from me ma that I needed to come 'ome. It's... well. It's family things. I need to go back for a while."

She nodded. "That's a shame. You must be looking forward to it, though, to see your family again. Isn't it hard being separated from them when you're in the city?"

He offered her a shrug. "It's not so bad. Me uncle... e's an 'ard man, and quick to temper, too, but 'e means well and looks after me plenty. I do miss 'em all, though, but... well. To be truthful, I find no joy in returning 'ome this time."

She looked at him with concern, but remained quiet while he played with the ring on his finger once more. It wasn't long before he continued, his voice quieter than before.

"Me youngest sister, Sara..." He sighed. "She was in an accident and badly 'urt. The priests tended 'er as much as they could, and me parents prayed te Chauntea. But they'd 'ad such a good 'arvest last season, they knew there was little they could ask for, and in the end... well, she died. Little Sara died, and me ma sent a messenger to fetch me 'ome for 'er funeral."

Lene looked at him sadly, and tentatively reached out, taking his hand in hers and giving it a comforting squeeze. "Oh, Jopi. I'm so sorry. How... how old was she?"

He gave her a small, grateful smile, and didn't move his hand. "Eleven summers, m'lady, just gone past. She was a right 'andful, though. Always getting into mischief." He stopped suddenly, and sniffed, drawing his hand away from her and apologising.

She shook her head at him. "I'm sorry, I should have... I mean, sometimes I'm so tactless..." She waited for him to find a handkerchief and compose himself and then she offered a warm, what she hoped was comforting smile; and she was relieved when he managed to smile back to her.

"Tell me about your studies, then," she suggested. "I mean, if you want to continue dining with me... if not, I'll understand..."

He nodded to her, serious and sincere. "Of course I do," he said firmly. "It's... it's good to 'ave something to take my mind off it all, an'... an', might I say, you've been very good company, so far." His cheeks coloured as he complimented her, and she grinned over to him, almost shyly. Their wine arrived, and he was quick to pour for them both, taking a few sips before resuming the conversation.

"I've only been learning for a little over a year," he said, relaxing back into his chair more as Lene wrapped her hands around her own cup, watching him intently as he spoke. "Uncle Ragefast is a proper wizard -- 'e was trained in Amn by the best mages you could ever 'appen across, an' 'e knows everything. I'm just really learning smaller spells from 'im, an' enough to take 'ome and be useful. Potions and salves, mainly. Uncle Ragefast is a firm believer in nature."

"It sounds interesting. Are you happy enough with it as a profession?"

Jopi seemed to consider this for a moment. "When I was young, I wanted to take over the farm, when ma and pa... well, when they wouldn't be able to. But Sadi's the eldest, and the 'onour 'as to go to 'im. An', really, there ain't enough for both of us... there won't be enough for anyone except 'im an' 'is own family. That's why ma wanted us to find out own paths."

"What are your other brothers and sisters doing?"

"Well, Tama, me sister... she's starting as an acolyte in the shrine of the village next year, to work with the Pastorals. She already tends the garden, even though she's barely turned fourteen. Bram, one o' me brothers, used to help her, until 'e got 'imself a job as kitchen boy in one of the taverns near the trade road. And Coen and Sam... well. They've barely seen twenty summers between 'em, an' I'm sure ma'll find 'em something to work at."

"Sounds like it must be busy at your house," Lene noted. "I... I don't have any brothers or sisters."

"No?" She could see pity in his eyes.

She shook her head. "I've always preferred my own company, anyway," she lied, forcing herself to smile. "And I've always had good friends around me."

Jopi nodded. "You've known your companions long, then?"

She gave him a thoughtful look. "Long enough, I guess," she answered carefully, before turning in her seat slightly, and pointing over to the couple. Safana was attacking a hunk of meat, while Coran's attention was fully taken by the buxom barmaid who was winking at him from the counter. "The girl is Safana, and we've... well, we're close. We stayed in Beregost for a while before we decided to head north to see the city."

"The man... he... he's an elf?"

"Coran?" She nodded to the young apprentice, and his eyes widened in apparent interest. She gave him a curious look.

"Forgive me," he said, noticing her expression. "For all the travelling I do between the city an' 'ome, I've never met an elf before."

She couldn't help but giggle, putting her hand up to her mouth as she tried to control the urge, and relieved that he didn't look too hurt by her reaction. "Trust me," she said, eventually. "It's overrated..."

He cocked his head at her, but their dinner arrived at that point, and a comfortable silence fell as dishes of ham, fish, roast vegetables and potatoes were arranged in the middle of the table for them. A basketbasket full of crusty bread was the last thing to be placed down by one of the red-cheeked and merry looking waitresses before she wished them a good meal. Both began to help themselves, and tucked in eagerly to the food, continuing their light-hearted discussion as the topic wound its way around travelling, ambitions, hopes and fears; though Lene was careful to avoid talking about herself too often. Eventually they'd had their full, and the dishes were cleared away while they finished the last drops of wine from the carafe, and then accompanied each other upstairs.

"My caravan's leaving before dawn," Jopi explained, excusing himself from any further company with an apologetic smile as they lingered at her door. Then, with a sudden display of new-found confidence, he leant over and kissed Lene gently on the cheek, only blushing slightly at his own actions as he wished her a good evening and a very safe journey to the city. She watched as he walked quickly away towards the stairs to the second floor, and felt a strange sensation in her chest as he paused before ascending, turning to look at her and offering a wide smile.

"Perhaps, if you're still in the city when I get back to me uncle's 'ouse... perhaps fortune will let us meet again."

And then he was gone, and she pulled herself into her room, closing the door behind her as she tried, desperately, to wipe the smile from her face.

---

That night, she dreamt of Jopi.

He was standing at the brow of a small but steep hill, reaching one hand out towards her. He was dressed as he'd been for dinner, and looking every inch as appealing to her as he had then. She hesitated for only a second before moving forward, trying to find some purchase for her passage on the rocky ground below; but each stone seemed to crumble at her touch, making progress difficult.

He smiled down to her, but his eyes were cold and distant -- quite unlike how she'd remembered them earlier that evening. He waved his hand impatiently, beckoning her to make speed. She fell to her knees, scrambling amongst the rubble and scree of the slope, sliding back down whenever she managed to make any real way towards him. Eventually he began to laugh.

"Foolish girl," he chided, his hand dropping to his side, his head shaking at her as if disappointed. "Do you really think that you can make it up here? Do you really think that you deserve to reach me? To have what I could offer you?"

She frowned, staring up at him as he looked at her questioningly. "I don't understand," she called out.

"You do," he said, confidently. "In your heart, you do. You can never have this -- you will never have a normal life. What man would take you if he knew of your past? If he knew of your true nature? I certainly wouldn't!"

"But... tonight," she said, desperately, beginning her attempts to scramble up the hill again. "You said you enjoyed it! You... we got along so well!"

"I spoke of myself," he said coolly. "I learnt nothing of you, because you did not speak of yourself. I don't need to ask why; I already know, and so do you." He knelt, still gazing down at her through his stony visage. "Don't fool yourself, harlot. You cannot change, and you can't have this kind of life."

She felt tears running down her cheeks and she recoiled away, as if he'd slapped her. Then he was gone, and she was alone at the base of the hill with only the sound of her heavy breathing to keep her company. She stood up, shakily, afraid to turn around, knowing something was there. She jumped when the hand landed on her shoulder.

"You don't need _him_," Safana purred, stalking around to stand in front of Lene with that knowing smile she was wont to wear. "You have me, darling... remember? I'd never treat you like that... I'll _never_ see you as worthless..."

And then Safana's hand was in hers, gently pulling her along and through the barren wastelands until they reached a solitary statue, almost completely covered by old, dead vines. Safana gave it an appraising look, before pulling the obstructions away. Soon enough, Lene recognised the figure as Coran, in, she imagined, all his naked glory. She averted her eyes, ignoring Safana's tinkling laughter.

"Now... no need to be coy with me," she whispered, sidling up to Lene's side, her lips almost brushing the younger girl's ear. "I know what you want... what you'd _take_! You know he's mine, don't you? But you don't care... you'd take him because you _want_ to. Because you _deserve_ him, don't you?"

And then she stepped back, smiling widely, and gestured to the sculpture before fading away. And Lene found herself moving towards him, reaching out to touch him with her hands. She didn't notice the faint, white glow coming from them until they'd made contact with the cold, rock surface -- and instantly, it changed. It lightened, swirling into another colour, and became soft and warm under her touch. The effect spread across the whole elf; and, before long, the very much alive Coran was standing in front of her -- so very close to her, so very nude -- and she felt herself begin to freeze in his place.

"I can see _everything_ that you do..." Safana's voice whispered into her ear. And as the coldness swept around her, the elf wrapped his arms around her prone and unfeeling form.

"Sweetling? _Sweetling?"_


	10. Chapter 10

The inn was quiet the following morning when Lene eventually managed to make her way downstairs. Neither of her companions were there, and so she made her way to a small table in the corner of the room beside the counter, drawing her cloak around herself almost subconsciously.

She could still hear the words spoken by dream-Jopi, echoing around in her mind, and it was only after she'd sat down that she was able to cast a wary look around the few other customers to check that he wasn't amongst their number. She didn't know whether to feel relief or sadness when his definite absence suggested he'd departed, as he said he would.

The same waitress bustled up to fetch her order, and Lene barely managed to murmur her wishes, carefully avoiding any eye contact. When the woman walked away, Lene found herself watching, wondering what the serving girl was thinking about her. Did she know what she was? Was she judging her, behind her deceiving, friendly smile?

Had Jopi known what she was? She'd hardly tried to conceal it, after all, when they'd first met. And by the time they'd dined together and she'd realised she quite enjoyed his company -- she quite liked him as a _person_ -- it had been too late. He was naive, yes, but simple... no. If he couldn't work out what she was, then Lene was sure his older sibling would be delighted to inform him in her absence.

And then, even if they _did_ see each other in the Gate in the future, she was all too certain he'd do all he could to avoid her. After all -- people only socialised with women like her in one certain way, didn't they. And whether or not it had served to fill her purse with coin; whether or not it had been the only way she had been able to survive after her life fell apart; she was now marked and tainted, and doomed to spend the rest of her life living under the shadow of what she was.

She sighed as the fresh juice was placed down beside her, and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. She remembered a girl she'd known, when she was younger -- much younger. Her name had been Nubia, and she'd arrived in Lene's village with her parents one summer. They were from Mulhorand, some distance to the east, and the girl was immediately the talk of the village due to her striking looks.

Lene could remember her clearly; tall and dark, slim, but athletically built, and more than a match for any of the boys. She was several years older than Lene, and they never actually spoke to each other. But everyone knew Nubia; everyone knew _of_ Nubia.

When Nubia finally left the village with her family, the locals had continued to talk about her for weeks. Some said she'd forced her parents to leave in disgrace, as she was with child after a liaison with one of the stable boys from the local hall. Others speculated that she'd been sent there to charm the young men in the area, to render them incapable of all sensible and rational thought before the area was invaded.

It was never invaded, of course, and no one heard from Nubia again. It was only as Lene grew up that she realised what the people had been meaning; why they called her a tramp, when she'd been living a rich life with her parents, and not bedraggled on the streets. She came to realise the meanings behind labelling the girl as a tart and a floozy, and understood that the term 'painted lady' was not, actually, in reference to the black charcoal that she'd wore around her eyes all the time.

The disgust the older women of her old village had shown regarding the girl had both horrified and intrigued the growing Lene. The more she learnt about the alleged scandalous actions of Nubia, and the more she was left exposed to the righteous disdain that such actions seemed to warrant, the more she felt herself agreeing with the consensus.

And then... and _now_... Now she was no better than Nubia. In fact, she was worse -- much worse, as she _knew_ what she'd done, whereas stories of Nubia's actions had been, for the most part, gossip and hearsay.

She'd resigned herself to never being able to go 'home', anyway; the bitterness hanging from her parents allowing her to leave so easily would not abate. But now, realising what she was and how they'd see her, she knew that there was absolutely no way at all for her to return to where she'd once felt safe and secure.

There was no option, but for her to carve out her own life; and to the Hells with them all, she'd do whatever it took to put herself first.

---

_"I need some... guidance..."_

The sun was shining brightly as the three companions passed across the drawbridge of the Friendly Arms Inn and turned, sharply, to their right to follow the path around the settlement and onwards to the north.

Safana looked tired; large dark rings circled her eyes, and her hair was limper than usual. Despite this, she was smiling grandly as they walked, and chattering lightly with Coran. He looked as he usually did; relaxed, at ease, and fully enjoying himself as he swaggered along between the two women, a hint of possessiveness towards both showing in his gait.

Lene could still hear the sounds of the farm animals drifting over the high walls, and the occasional shouts of the children who were playing beside one of the larger fountains. She had mixed feelings about leaving; on one hand, the security of the inn made her feel safe, and everyone was so friendly that she almost felt welcomed -- even if she _did_ wonder what they were _really_ thinking of her.

But on the other hand, it was now somewhere that would be forever locked away in her memories -- a nostalgic, wistful memory that she imagined would serve as a painful reminder for what could have been had she not made the choices she'd already chosen. For dream-Jopi was right -- no men settled down with courtesans when they could have the love of a pure and untouched woman instead. And she was sure there were plenty of those to go around.

So she'd have to just take what she could; she didn't want for money, and she was pretty enough and young enough to possess the enough charm to help her to continue in the field for as long as she needed to amass a small fortune. Then... then she could stop, and push away the grubby hands that thought they owned her just because they'd given gold for the privilege. She'd be alone, of course -- but being alone would be better than a lifetime of loveless lust.

_"The Gods... not all the Gods are so harsh, child. I doubt many look as unfavourably on you, as you, yourself, do."_

She'd wondered, that morning, if there was any way to redirect her life. She _was_ still young -- she was sure she had the capacity to care, to be kind... to love. She'd loved her parents, after all -- dearly, in fact. She hated Gorion for taking her away from them; for keeping her in the dark about whatever he'd planned to do with her, and, mostly -- for dying as he did, and leaving her stranded in a place she didn't know with neither money nor friends.

But she didn't hate everyone. She didn't hate Safana. She didn't hate Coran.

She could love. She _could_.

But even if she could -- how was one to go about changing what had already happened?

_"I'm fooling myself if I think I can be normal. I know what I've done… what I'm trying to repent for. But I can't change what I've done, and I can't change what it has made me. And... and I can't even promise I'll change in the future, because I don't know what else to do. So... I cannot repent; I cannot have faith that the Gods guide me. I'm... I'm faithless."_

The gnomish cleric in the temple had listened to her, stricken at the realisation of what she'd become, and had tried to comfort her. She'd told Lene to reach out for the support of the Gods, to find her faith -- that it was never to late to take their teachings into her heart and to live her life under their supportive gaze. But Lene had shaken her head, pushing the priestess away and stumbling back outside as she fought the nausea and confusion whirling in her mind.

But then she'd seen Safana, coolly and confidently walking to the gates, her hips swaying rhythmically as she went. The older woman -- she had no such qualms with how she earned her coin, and she'd been the reason that Lene had managed to emotionlessly bed every man who was willing since her arrival in Beregost. Safana had shown her to get exactly what she wanted.

And Jopi -- poor, innocent, farmer's son Jopi, who she wouldn't have looked at twice had he not been kind enough to give her some help when everyone else ignored her -- had been the man to make her realise that perhaps she wanted more than she'd originally thought.

How bitterly ironic.

"Ah, my bewitching sweetling, and alluring sugarplum," Coran suddenly drawled lazily, flashing each of the women, in turn, a dazzling smile. "Have the gods themselves not decided to look favourably, indeed, upon me this day? The weather is splendid, and I have a figure to each side of me who could rival the Goddess Hanali, herself, at the heights of beauty."

Safana gave him one of her best predatory smiles in return, Lene noted, and the desire was shining clearly in her eyes as she regarded her current lover. "You flatter us, elfling," she purred, "though we... do not object..."

Her words were carefully spoken, her tone guarded. Coran seemed to instantly realise her meaning, however, as he moved a little closer to the older woman, and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder. This caused her to give a small, subtle, but satisfied nod, and she began to regard the countryside once more. Coran gave a sidelong glance to Lene, and for a moment she thought she saw the traces of boredom in his look. But it disappeared in a flash as his eyes roved over her body, and a new light seemed to ignite within them. He blew her a very furtive kiss, winked mischievously, and then turned his attention back to the other woman. Lene merely shook her head and looked away -- but she couldn't stop a small smile from escaping.

They continued on in silence for a while, rounding the bend on the road as they passed the Friendly Arms and began to leave it behind. There was birdsong in the air and a scent of primrose would occasionally drift past. Hedgerows sprung up at either side of the road before long, the occasional bluebell valiantly forcing its way through the leaves to soak up the late summer sun. Sprigs of parsley were dotted around mercurially, and a few weeds had managed to infiltrate the gaps between the farthest outer cobbles.

Lene stopped now and then, glad that, for once, her companions had decided to carry their own belongings. She could manage her own possessions easily enough, and would add to them, now and again, whenever she found an interesting flower, or a herb she knew would come in useful. It had been some time since they'd been in Beregost, and the supply of herbs she'd had from the clerics there were beginning to curl and wilt in the confines of her backpack. She'd always paid attention when Josephus had spoken with regards to the art of making his special potions, and her keen eye meant she had learnt to identify the necessary ingredients with a little effort on her part.

The road was almost deserted; a few hunters passed, travelling towards the inn, and before long the steady sound of horses' hooves was heard behind them. They moved to the side, as a group, allowing the procession to make its way slowly past. The wagons at the front were laden high with goods, all securely covered with blankets and sheets and tied down firmly. Towards the back were a few caravans; Lene watched them go past, her eyebrow rising as she noticed that each and every single one of them lay empty.

The very final caravan had only just trundled beyond them, ramshackle and in severe disrepair, and its back door completely missing. Coran stepped back onto the road, and grinned magnificently at the two girls.

"I do think, my beauties, that this is a ride especially for us!"

Lene grinned as widely as Safana, and together, the three companions ran after the caravan as quietly as they could. Coran reached it first, easily leaping up and into the dark confines. He threw down his pack and turned back to the others, crouching down and extending his hand. With a heave, he helped Safana up to join him, and swiftly turned back for Lene.

The procession wasn't moving very quickly, so Lene was able to keep up quite easily. When she was sure that Safana was out of the way, she moved closer to the elf's outstretched hand, and reached up for it. As their skin connected, she felt a faint flutter in her chest, and his fingers wrapped around her wrist.

"Ready, sweetling?" he mouthed, smiling widely down to her, and she nodded, pushing herself forward as he pulled. Her momentum forced her straight into his arms, and a bump on the road caused him to lose his footing. They tumbled backwards, down to the floor of the caravan together, giggling like children.

Lene was quick to remember Safana's presence, however, and pushed herself away from the elf's grasp as he reluctantly let go. She scrambled to her feet, preparing herself for a dark look and a sharp word, and only managed to look up when neither came.

Safana wasn't paying any attention at all, to either her, or Coran. Her eyes were fixed firmly to something further back in the caravan, and Lene had to squint to make out the shape in the darkness.

"Ah..." Coran said as he got to his feet, his voice full of mistrust at whatever they'd both seen. The object moved forward, and Lene instinctively jumped backwards a little. As it came into the light, she could make out the features of a young man who was intently studying the three of them. He had a neat little beard and moustache, as dark as his slightly dishevelled hair, and his clothing looked as if it hadn't been washed in several weeks.

Despite that, he managed to appear to look down on them, his eyes slowly moving along the line, until, seemingly satisfied, he shrugged and leant back into his seat.

"There is plenty of room for all," he said, his voice clear but cold, matching the calculating glint in his eyes, and defying the smile that had appeared. "Please... sit and be welcome. What difference makes four stowaways from one, after all!" He patted the seats beside him, giving Safana a leering look. Coran scowled at the movement, but the older woman had quickly regained her cool, and confidently slid into the seat next to the stranger.

"Good day to you," she said huskily, her head tilted slightly to the side, her look coming from under her long lashes. "Have we intruded on your... ride?"

"Hah! You're quite the filly, aren't you?" the man remarked, shifting his weight so he was leaning closer to Safana. "I _was_, actually, enjoying the trip... having this small boudoir on wheels all to myself..." He paused, reaching to take her hand in his own and raising them both to his lips as he gazed into the woman's eyes.

_Slightly better than Coran_, Lene noted to herself. _Managed to get the eye level above the breast..._

"My name is Eldoth Kron," he whispered. "And I am... enchanted."

Safana gave him her most professional smile, delicately freeing her hand as she stood up, shakily, as the caravan made its way along the bumpy cobblestones. "My name is Safana," she said smoothly, "and these are my companions; Coran, and... Lene."

She'd managed to move herself past the younger girl, and subtly pushed her towards Eldoth as he smiled approvingly. Lene barely resisted, allowing herself to sink into the seat beside the raven-haired man, trying not to frown as his eyes lingered hungrily on her body.

"It seems that hitchhiking certainly has its... positives," he murmured, licking his lips as he finally raised his eyes to meet hers.

_"You can find peace in your past, my child, if you give yourself the chance to move on to things anew."_

She smiled at him; it came easier than she'd have liked, but she didn't know what else to do. He smiled back at her; no longer cold, but debauched instead.

She looked over to her friends. Safana was standing beside the open door, looking out at the landscape passing by. Coran was standing, almost protectively, by her side, a scowl on his face as he stared into space. It was a few minutes before he turned his head to look over to Lene, and his expression softened, his eyes looked almost sorrowful.

She forced herself to look away.


	11. Chapter 11

Safana swayed slightly, a girlish giggle erupting from her lips as she held onto Coran's arm. The elf only gave her a bemused look before hoisting her bags on top of his own; manoeuvring her around towards the road they needed to take. 

The convoy had taken them almost all the way to Baldur's Gate before taking the wrong fork in the road that apparently twisted around forests and city alike, heading north towards Waterdeep. Had Coran not been paying attention to their location, they may well have ended up many miles north of their destination and facing off against some unhappy caravan drivers.

Eldoth had proven to be a very sociable man. A bard, by profession, he'd offered to play them a tune on his lute several times, only to have Coran remind them all that the driver would, more likely than not, wonder why there was music coming from his supposedly empty wagon. Safana had snorted at the elf, causing him to give her a rather hurt look in turn.

A bottle of strong red wine later, which was provided by the now _very_ amiable Eldoth, saw the elf removing the instrument from the bard's vicinity, and retreating to the fore of the caravan, sitting alone in his sobriety as the world rushed past. Lene tried to avoid drinking as much as she could, but it was useless. Upon detecting that she was only sipping delicately from the bottle on her turn, Eldoth insisted that she take a larger share for herself; and proceeded to 'aid' her with the task.

More bottles had followed.

Now they were a little over a half-hour walk from the gates to the city, and Safana -- who had probably consumed the most -- was alternating between giggles and yawns, hanging onto the arm of her elven lover as she protested about the walk. To his credit, Coran's face remained smooth, and he did nothing but encourage her to take small steps by his side, carrying her bag so she didn't have to deal with the weight of it in her unsteady gait, and reminding the older woman that when they arrived, they could seek a room at an inn with magnificent baths and luxurious beds.

"Mmmm, beds," Safana mumbled sleepily, tripping over the uneven cobbles. This led to a snort and yet more giggling.

"You travel very... lightly," Lene noted, the fresh air swimming around her head as she forced herself to walk in a relatively straight line beside Eldoth. The bard seemed little worse for the wear; a satisfied smirk seemed to be plastered to his face, and his eyes were slightly glazed -- but other than that, he was walking and talking fine.

"What is the use in being weighed down in this life?" he mused, managing to close the distance between them in a few short steps. Lene kept on focusing on the road ahead; she just needed a few more moments for the world to stop bouncing around, and then she'd be able to move away from him, to a respectable distance, once more. "But, my treasure, tell me more about yourself. You look so very... unremarkable for one such as you are."

Lene frowned slightly and looked over to him. He wasn't looking at her, but the half-smile was still curling his lips. She quickly shifted her attention back to the road, concentrating on her direction and speed. "What do you mean?"

"You are so very precious," he said smoothly. "Like long-lost treasure that has been hunted for an age. Come -- there is no need to be coy with me! We both know what you are and what you do; although, I will admit that had I met you alone, and not in such cosy companionship with your friends, I would have considered you too_winsome_..."

Lene's concentration on her walking was broken, and she managed to slip on a particularly bumpy part of the road. She stumbled and staggered straight into Eldoth's expectant arms, too unbalanced to fight her way free from his embrace immediately. She felt his breath on her ear as his hands roughly caressed her through her clothing.

"I expect that friends have the customary fee waived, hmm? The road is still quite long before us... I'm sure we have plenty of time to establish a beautiful affinity with each other."

And then he let her go, only ensuring that she was steady on her feet before he proceeded along the road and as she lingered behind, staring at him incredulously. She glanced further back; Safana and Coran were quite a distance away, the woman finding the trek a struggle, indeed, and the elf looking strangely worn down and discontent. She wondered how long he'd stick with them when they arrived at the city; she wondered what would _happen_ when they arrived at the city.

Suddenly she was painfully aware that, of the three, she was the only one who had not been there before. If they decided to part ways...

But Safana wouldn't do that to her. Would she?

Lene sighed, and forced herself to march on quickly, catching up with Eldoth. He offered her a satisfied look and nodded as if pleased with her decision to walk with him. She merely gave him a half-smile, deciding to keep her options open until she had her bearings in the Gate. Then, she could always slip away to make her own life.

She wouldn't rely on Safana being around forever. Sooner or later she'd be on her own, again, wouldn't she?

_I will _always _be here for you_...

---

They eventually arrived before the city just as the sun began to set. Lene couldn't stop her eyes from widening as she looked across the river to the sprawling city beyond, large wooden gates the only obvious way through the tall city walls, located beyond the parapeted bridge.

"We will wait for Coran and Safana to catch up, if you don't mind," she said, coming to a halt at the bottom of a slight slope and just short of where their track joined with several other routes, amalgamating together in their unity to reach the city.

Eldoth merely nodded, stretching his arms out to the side and standing up on his tip-toes, before allowing his almost empty pack to slip down from his shoulders and onto the ground. Then, he knelt before it, opening it delicately and removing his lute, before examining the dark contents closely. Lene watched; a dark, deep black substance was slipping through his fingers, and he raised them closer to his face before inhaling deeply.

"Is that..." she let the question linger, unasked. He lovingly wrapped his merchandise back up, replaced his instrument and closed his pack, hoisting it up and over his shoulder.

"There is no love like that for the black leaf," he said simply, brushing his hands together and taking a theatrical look at his surroundings. Then he seemed to realise something, and a smile crossed his face as he jaunted over to stand closer to the girl, his arm going around her shoulders.

"Of course, we're both people of commerce," he whispered, his hand playing with her hair as the other crept around her front to nestle on her waist. "You have something I'd _very_ much like to... experience, and I have something for you. A mutual exchange may be beneficial to us both..."

Lene's lips curled into a smile, and she offered him one of her own inviting looks in return. His appreciation seemed to grow -- his lips brushed at her neck, his body was pressed firmly against hers, and she closed her eyes. She knew of black lotus, of course, but had never experienced it before -- perhaps it was time to.

A cough was enough to make Eldoth draw away from Lene, though his hands lingered until the very last moment. She turned to see Safana leaning on Coran heavily, the elf supporting the woman, and almost carrying her as they made their way along.

Lene took the opportunity to remove herself from Eldoth's attention for a while by moving to Safana's other side, hoisting the woman's arm around her shoulder, and sharing her weight with the older woman's lover. To Lene's surprise, he offered her a genuinely warm lop-sided smile, with no obvious flirtation attached to it. She assumed he was just too tired to even try.

They crossed the bridge, and Lene paid the toll at the gate for all four of them. She didn't mind paying for Coran and Safana, overly much -- she could always claim some back from her friend, if nothing else, but she did harbour a tinge of annoyance for Eldoth's assumption that she'd fund his entry to the city. _His merchandise better be worth it..._

The bard was looking around with a smile, now, obviously delighted to be back in the city. He rounded on the others, quick to step in front of them so they couldn't pass until they'd listened to him.

"I say, there is a devilishly _welcoming_ inn over on the west side of town," he mused, leisurely eyeing up Lene's money pouch as it hung conspicuously from her belt, her haste to find it to pay for their entry meaning her cloak was swept to the side. "Magnificent rooms, wonderful entertainment... well, as wonderful as you can get when you can't have me."

Coran stared at the human coldly. "We'll be going to the Elfsong, for tonight at least," he informed abruptly. "Safana is in no state to travel any further, let alone across the city as it falls dark."

"Where is the Elfsong?" Lene asked quietly. The elf nodded ahead of them. A large, many-floored building, side-on to their position, seemed to dominate the area. It appeared to be predominantly made of timber, with the upper floors overhanging the ground level, the facades decorated with various wooden beams. Several chimneys jutted haphazardly from the roof, and weeds appeared to be sprouting from the eaves. Lene grinned.

"Looks good to me," she said, adjusting herself to take on a little more of Safana's weight as the older woman adjusted her position sleepily. "Let's go."

Eldoth wrinkled his nose. "Are you _sure_ about this? You don't seem to be the sort who'd need to slum needlessly..."

"It'll do for one night," Lene replied firmly, causing the bard to sigh and follow after them. Coran led the way, as well as he could, down the cobbled road and past some ramshackle old houses with doors falling away from the frames and windows broken more often than not. It wasn't the most pleasant of surroundings -- Lene had expected the entrance of such a grand city to be a little more accommodating to the newcomer's eye.

They followed the road around the corner of the tavern and the sound of music drifted through the air to meet them. It was a lively jig, and was soon joined by some raucous singing and chatter. Coran seemed to perk up a little.

Lene carefully sidestepped some puddles in the road as they turned to approach the main entrance of the tavern. Outside looked as if someone had attempted to cultivate the beginnings of a garden, with a small but lumpy expanse of grass, and a tree hanging over the doorway like a canopy. A few benches were set against the walls, and locals were sitting in the warm evening air as they enjoyed their cups, none of them paying much notice to the travellers as they passed.

A handful of women loitered beside the trunk of the tree, their faces heavy with paint and their clothing gaudy and revealing. One of them waved over to Eldoth in apparent recognition and then blew him a kiss.

"I knew you'd be back!" she declared, grinning over to him eagerly. "Oi'm a foine bit o' strumpet, aren't I?"

The bard only smirked, not even pausing in his gait as he followed the elf and the two girls up the three brick steps and into the inn. Smoke and heat immediately blasted them as they pushed their way through the doors, and Lene's breath caught, for a moment, in her throat.

They quickly moved to a nearby table, where Coran deposited Safana into a chair and tossed their bags down beside her.

"I'll see about rooms," he said, much more subdued than before. Lene caught his arm as he turned to go away, and quickly pushed her money pouch into his hands. He gave her a curious look, but then shrugged and disappeared into the crowds. Lene only hoped that he'd bother to return; although most of her coin was safely in her pack, she'd passed him a substantial amount, and she hardly knew how much he could be trusted.

Eldoth took a seat opposite Safana, sighing heavily as he looked at his surroundings with disgruntlement. His fingers began to drum on the smeared surface of the table, but it was impossible for Lene to hear it above the general noise. In the far corner, two men were dressed in colourful clothing, one playing a small drum, and one playing a flute. Their music was loud enough to fill the entire room, and a space had been cleared in the centre to allow people to dance freely; and so they were. Spinning and wheeling at a frantic pace, giggling and laughing as the onlookers clapped and nodded their heads in time.

Lene had never seen such a busy place before in her life.

She turned to check on Safana. The older woman had slumped forward onto the table, resting her head on her arms. She was sound asleep despite everything going on around her, and Lene couldn't help but smile. Safana had always been so... _dignified_, until now. The wine had certainly gone to her head, and Lene was still feeling the warmth coming from her own consumption, though her control over her instincts and senses was beginning to return as the intoxication slowly wore off.

Coran eventually returned to them with two bronze keys and an apologetic look to Lene. "I asked for three, but there were only two rooms left," he said, being uncharacteristically chivalrous. She just shrugged, and he offered a small, thoughtful frown. "I will share with the bard," he stated decidedly. "You can share with Safana."

But Eldoth overheard. "No need for that, is there my treasure?" he said insistently, snatching one of the keys from the elf's outstretched hand. Lene made sure she received her money pouch, however. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your elegant escort," the bard continued, "and, after all... it's only for _one night_..."

Lene couldn't understand Coran's muttered words as he heaved Safana to her feet and gathered their bags. He cast one last dark look at Eldoth, who wholly ignored him, and stalked off, dragging Safana along unsteadily behind him.

Eldoth fingered the key in his palm and gave Lene a very feral smile.

---

The music faded out, to Lene's disappointment, less than an hour after Coran and Safana had retired to their room. She'd half expected the elf to resurface, for some reason; the chance to escape Safana's intense scrutiny, she assumed, would have been high on his list. But if he had left the older woman sleeping alone, he'd decided not to rejoin Lene and Eldoth in the common room of the Elfsong Tavern.

The crowds began to thin out, and Lene could make out a little bit more of the establishment. There was still a smoky haze in the air, making it difficult for her to see much of the far side of the bar, but she was able to make out several pretty serving girls bustling around the tables, serving drinks and hot plates of food to the eager customers. The wooden floor was only partly covered with stained and worn looking rugs, and the exposed floorboards were covered with scratches and scuffs.

The tables had also seen better days; several were tilted to noticeable angles due to the absence of a leg. There were few chairs -- and what there _were_, were basic and hard, like the one Lene found herself perched on. The rest of the seating was comprised of stools, looking every bit as uncomfortable. Oil lamps provided a dull glow which was only intensified by the large open fire nestled into the side wall, the fire providing the majority of the light for the centre of the room, and a stifling heat.

Lene placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her cupped hand. She'd never seen anywhere like this. It stank of sweat from the bodies of the dancers and locals sitting too close to the fire on the already warm evening. The smell of smoke and fat also hung in the air, with the occasional faint whiff of an overly powerful floral fragrance as the waitresses moved past. Everything at Candlekeep, during her incredibly short time there, had managed to smell so..._sterile. _And if it hadn't smelt clean and fresh, it smelt of dust and neglect.

She'd avoided going up to her room with her bag, aware that Eldoth was managing to keep one eye on her as he sipped at his ale. He'd managed to pay for it himself, though he'd neglected to order anything for Lene. She hadn't minded, though -- the last thing she wanted was the opportunity for him to tamper with her drink, and she ensured that she ordered a _very_ non-alcoholic juice from one of the waitresses, keeping it close to her at all times. She was fully aware of what the bard would want from her later, and she wasn't completely opposed to the idea of having some fun. But it'd be on _her_ terms, and he'd already as good as promised her a sample of his wares. Until she got that...

He was eyeing one of the waitresses, licking his lips slightly as he drank in her figure. Even Coran seemed to be a complete beginner at lechery compared to the bard; but, unlike Coran, she hadn't warmed to him all that much. He was passable company, and she certainly wasn't overly bothered about spending an evening with him after his promise from earlier; but there was something about him that made her feel wary. She leant forward on the table, smiling to him as he looked over to her.

"So, what brought you back to the city?" she asked, running her fingertip around the rim of her glass. "Or was it just your... business, calling you back?"

He smirked, moving around to sit closer, resting his hand on the back of her chair as he leant into her. "The business was one reason, I admit," he murmured, his lips brushing past her ear. "The other was that I simply... missed the city, and longed to return. I have a good friend here, who is expecting me. Perhaps... perhaps I will introduce you both."

"I shall be enchanted, I am sure," she replied. He began to kiss her neck, almost gently at first, then more insistently. She couldn't help but grin to herself; there was something empowering about the effect she seemingly had on him. Yet she ignored his attentions as much as she could, purposefully glancing around the room and then letting a small sigh escape from her lips.

"Are you bored, my dear cheesecake?" His hand was now on her back; his other was lingering on her thigh, making its way higher, _very_ slowly. "We could always retire for the eve, should the entertainment down here not be to your standard."

She peeked around at him. The fuzziness from the earlier wine was almost gone. She looked at the bard and saw fun, mirth, and some escapism. But the longer she looked, the more she saw deception, manipulation, smut and uncertainty. She closed her eyes; he took it as an invitation to let his lips meet with hers, and she didn't resist. His tongue forced a way past their teeth, and she could taste the ale he'd been drinking. Eventually, she pulled away, smiled to him, and nodded.

Wordlessly, they picked up their bags, and she followed as he led the way to the stairs.


	12. Chapter 12

She was floating.

Well… it _felt_ like she was floating, even if she knew she wasn't.

They'd arrived in their room; a rather nice room, Lene thought, considering the overall state of the inn. It was clean and tidy, and one large bed lay at one side of the room, covered with cushions and blankets. And as she sat down, she looked over towards the window and noticed a tall, gilded mirror that provided a _very_ convenient reflection from her position.

Eldoth disappeared briefly, not long after they first arrived there, and when he came back, he carried a bottle of wine and two large glasses. It wasn't long before she was allowing herself to drain the contents of her goblet, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her, washing what inhibitions she had away.

By then they were lying together atop the bed, still fully clothed except for their boots, which were strewn across the floor. The bard then pulled his goods free from his backpack, and carefully moulded a stick. This he then lit, placing it between his lips and inhaling deeply, before passing it over to Lene, and lying down beside her on his back, a contented expression on his face, his eyes closed.

She only hesitated for a second before doing likewise, resisting the urge to cough as the alien sensation filled her lungs and caught in her throat. Then it was passed back to him, and she lay down as well, closing her own eyes. At first, she felt nothing.

But then, it was there. Like a tiny tear, initially, that opens wider and wider as it's pulled. She couldn't remember why she'd been feeling so down; she looked at Eldoth and saw a handsome young man who thought well of her, and she of him. He passed her more wine, and she accepted, alternating between drinking and smoking, until both were gone, and she was giddy from the effects.

Their clothing was then tossed away to join their boots on the floor, each aiding the other with laces, buckles and fastens. His hands roved across her body as he murmured incoherently into her ear. Likewise, she let her fingers run lightly over his smooth chest, and down his thin arms, around his waist...

They fell onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs, hair and tongues. His mouth sought her own hungrily before embarking on a journey along her jawbone, and onto her neck. The kisses turned into nips and bites, and she raked her nails across his flesh in response. The effects of the drug had washed over her completely, rendering her almost detached from herself in a state of blissful, hazy happiness. He clambered atop her clumsily, the effects of the wine making his balance and co-ordination suffer, but Lene didn't notice; her experience was coloured by the giddiness she was experiencing.

She had no idea how long it lasted, with Eldoth finding pleasure within her body time and time again. There was no inch of her body that escaped his attentions, whether it was a rough caress from his hand, or a biting suckle from his lips. Eventually he was fully spent, collapsing on the bed at her side, panting heavily. He ran one hand through his damp, tousled hair, and offered her a satisfied smile.

"Exquisite," he murmured. "Simply exquisite, I'm sure you will agree." He yawned heavily, throwing himself over and onto his side, his back turned to her as she was effectively cast aside. "And you... not bad, I'll give you that. Would have expected better, mind, from someone like you..."

And Lene lay there, very still, her eyes fixed to the ceiling. She was sure that she should have felt offended by his words, but she couldn't remember why. So instead, she smiled to herself, watching the hallucinations dancing above her head, until sleep finally came to claim her.

--

When Lene awoke the next morning she had little recollection of the evening before. She groaned as she sat up slowly; her head hurt badly, and the light pouring in the window from the rising sun was making her eyes water. Then she saw the other, lying naked and on his stomach, atop the silky sheets, and with his head turned away from hers. She frowned slightly, and slowly her memory began to return. Eventually, she remembered _everything_.

She felt sick.

It was with great care that she moved off the bed, softly padding around the room to collect her previously discarded clothing. It looked even worse than normal when she was hung-over, and she dressed herself quickly and forlornly. Then she collected the rest of her belongings and turned towards the door.

Out of the corner of her eye she spied Eldoth's backpack, still lying open with his valuable goods just peeking out at the top. She hesitantly took a step towards it; pausing as the bard suddenly moved, rolling over and onto his side. She tried not to look at his exposed groin, the sight of it making her relive the previous night when he'd thrust himself deep inside her, over and over again, grunting and seeking to please only himself. She shifted her weight slightly, suddenly aware of the tenderness she felt below from his rough handling. She didn't even spare the backpack another look, turning on her heel and quickly, but quietly, leaving the room.

--

An attempt at breakfast just served to make Lene feel even worse, and she grabbed her bag as she abruptly stood from the table, knocking her stool over in her haste to rush to the door. The fresh air hit her headlong, but it carried the faint smell of the sewers on the breeze, and Lene could no longer resist the urge to violently retch.

She made it into one of the small side alleys, ducking behind a row of barrels as she heaved and spat. Only a small amount of bile came up, but her body almost felt as if it were struck by spasms as she lost her battle against the urge to be sick. Several minutes passed before she was able to gasp for breath, moving away from the mess she'd made and wiping her mouth on her sleeve while tears ran down her face. She dreaded to think about how she must look at that point; it was bad enough that she felt awful, but knowing how dreadful her appearance surely was, as well, was almost too much.

She sank down, sitting on top of a small wooden check that had been pushed against the alley wall. She was cloaked in the shadow, there, but had a good view out to the open city road just beyond. She had no idea what time it was – the sun was hanging fairly high in the sky, so the hour wasn't early, but there'd been no sign of Safana or Coran when she'd sat in the common room, forcing the stale bread and horribly temperate milk down her throat. A cold stab seemed to pierce through her as she considered the possibility that they may have already moved on, left her behind now they'd reached the city. No real _firm_ plans had been made, after all. She couldn't rely on them to be there forever.

But Eldoth was still there. Vivid memories of how she'd run her hands through his greasy hair, licking and biting him washed over her once again, but this time, the queasiness passed quickly, and she was swift to turn her mind to other things.

People passed the alley entrance, their voices drifting in to provide her with snatches of the conversation as she sat there, feeling lost and alone. She had no idea how long she sat there, though guessed that at least an hour must have passed as she stared out at the world, blankly; detached, trying to drift away from the harsh reality she knew she needed to face.

"_... an' so when 'e got 'ome, las' night, I tol' 'im tha' Fearghus got the job..."_

"_...if'n we don't hurry, our pitch will 'o gone, and da'll be..."_

"_Briel! Wait, Briel – don't just walk away from me! Briel! BRIEL!"_

Lene squinted as she peered out to the sunny street, the last voice sounding very familiar to her ears. A tall, almost regal looking woman was marching along the street, and another was chasing her, pleading with her to stop. It was Coran. Lene found herself subconsciously moving forward in her seat in order to hear better what was said. The elf finally managed to catch the woman's arm, and she spun around to face him, her face thunderously dark.

"Have you not done _enough_?" she hissed, tearing her arm from his grasp. Coran stared back at her, seemingly nonplussed by the rage he faced.

"Let me help," he said, almost begging. Lene's eyes widened; he suddenly looked much younger and frightened than she was used to. There was fear in his eyes; but why? She edged closer to the edge of the chest, leaning forward slightly.

"I was idiotic to ask you in the first place," the woman called Briel said frostily. "It was a moment of madness; the stress... the stress had made me foolish. Begone, elf. Get away from me, and dare _not_ contaminate me with your filthy, roving hands ever again."

"Briel-"

"Enough! You made your choice when you took that child to your bed-"

"She is a grown woman, Briel!"

"And that makes it acceptable? You had sworn to stay faithful to me-"

"I had done no such thing-"

Lene flinched as the woman's hand lashed across Coran's cheek, the force pushing his head to the side and causing him to stumble slightly. Then Briel lowered her hand, fists clenched at either side as she opened her mouth, seemingly intent on carrying on the conversation. But suddenly snapped her lips closed, shook her head with barely concealed anger, and stalked away once again from the elf.

He just watched her go, frustration etched on his face. Lene sat and watched him, suddenly feeling very exposed and unsure of her position. She felt a tickle in her nose and silently cursed, drawing her sleeve back up to try and prevent the inevitable. It was no use; she sneezed loudly, and Coran's eyes flitted over to her. At first he scowled, but then his expression softened, and he wandered over, casually glancing at her bag and the vomit she'd tried to discretely hide behind the barrels.

"Are you well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow enquiringly. She nodded, though he hardly looked convinced. He looked away, staring out to the street and letting a small sigh escape from his lips.

"You heard our... discussion?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "I... not intentionally," she said, trying not to lie too much. She couldn't help already being there when they appeared. "I'd come out for air, and..." Her voice trailed off. She didn't want to share details of her evening with anyone. Especially not the elf.

Coran's eyes drifted back towards her bag, but his gaze never met her own, and he returned to his observation of the activity in the street with a knowing look on his face. "Safana is still asleep?"

"She was not downstairs when I awoke."

He nodded, then his shoulders seemed to sag and he ran one hand through his tousled hair. "She hasn't left, if that's what you thought. She will likely still be asleep; she will _likely _be feeling just as bad as you are," he said knowingly. Lene tried to avoid looking at where she'd been sick.

"I wasn't sure," she eventually admitted. Coran finally looked at her; there was pity in his eyes.

"She is your friend," he said, though he didn't sound wholly convinced. Lene appreciated his attempt, though. "She will look after you-"

"I don't need looking after," she interrupted indignantly.

He just shrugged tiredly. "Then she will _accompany_ you while you're in town, I expect."

"What about you?"

Coran shifted uncomfortably. "I... I will not be able to travel with you. For now, at least."

"Why?"

He sighed irritably. "There is something I need to do. _Alone_," he stressed. "Tell Safana-"

"Oh no," Lene said, standing up and trying to ignore the shaking in her legs. "I'm not doing your dirty work for you. If you're leaving, you can go and tell her yourself."

"You don't understand," he replied, shaking his head. He almost looked sad. "There is no time."

"Why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. He just shook his head again, and started to walk away. Lene ignored the churning in her stomach as she swooped down to collect her bag, and jogged off after him. "Why?" she asked again. He tutted in exasperation but continued in his stride.

"It… it is a long story."

--

Lene looked up and down the street, her eyes searching for Coran's whereabouts. Eventually she noticed him, sitting on a small bench, her bag propped up next to him. He was staring down at the ground, a look of hopelessness surrounding his entire body.

She mentally went over all that had happened since he'd agreed to let her help with his problem. The woman, Brielbara, was his ex-lover. Their tryst had taken place over a year ago, and Coran had taken full advantage of the young mage's boredom with her husband. He'd told Lene that he'd said things Brielbara wanted to hear; but, unfortunately, he had no intention of keeping absolutely true to his word. While she thought she would be able to leave her husband to live with the elf, he had already met Melody, a young adventuress, and part of a group known as Knights of the Unicorn. They had been staying at the Helm and Cloak, and it seemed as if Coran had become smitten.

"_She was so young and happy," he said, smiling wistfully. "And beautiful, too. Her laugh lifted my heart whenever I heard it, and her eyes would twinkle with delight. She gave me a string for my bow, told me it was the hair from a unicorn's tail; I didn't believe her, but I kept it nevertheless, unused."_

Melody had been a woman after Coran's own heart; eagerly attempting the impossible, unwilling to turn down a dare. But their farewell had sealed the end of their association; the girl firmly adamant that even if their paths were to cross again, there would be no returning to anything they'd shared. Lene asked if he'd tried to join their group; Coran had turned away, a small sigh escaping from his lips, and the topic had been changed.

"Well?" he asked, looking up as she approached. There was something akin to hope in his eyes.

Lene moved her bag from the bench, settling it on the ground between them as she took a seat by his side. "She was untrusting, at first," she began, "and understandably so. I am a stranger to her; and worse than that, I am a female calling myself your 'friend'."

Coran nodded, his brow wrinkling slightly.

"Still. I persuaded her that… well, that despite how you _are_, I wasn't involved with you like _that_. It took some effort, though."

"Briel always had a jealous streak. It was only after Melody that I realised how violent it could be."

"Well, she seemed to take great delight in telling me how you'd abandoned her and left her with child – and not only that, but that she'd suspected you knew, and that's why you ran off, leaving her to explain to her also-human husband just why their new born babe had slightly tipped ears."

Coran shook his head. "I swear to the Seldarine, Lene, I had no idea. I would never have… I…" He sighed heavily. "I cannot say I would have changed my ways, or become the father or man she'd have wanted me to be." He sat up straight, turning to face Lene and taking her hands in his own. "But you must believe me when I say that I would not have knowingly forsaken any child I'd sired."

Lene met his gaze; it was intense and serious, and his blue eyes seemed to pierce into her as they sought her acceptance. Finally she nodded. Her throat had gone dry, and she looked down at their entwined hands as she spoke. "I believe you," she said quietly. "But… how many others may there be? Did you never stop to think…"

His hands were pulled away as he slumped back against the bench, looking miserable. "I did not, no," he admitted. "A fool I was, ready to believe that… well, that all _that_ side of things would be taken care of by the maid."

Lene stood up and picked up her bag. She frowned as she looked along the street, first one way, and then the other. The city was _huge_ – she had no idea where she was, any more, as Coran had used his old contacts to find Briel's location, and then led Lene swiftly there. Now she was the one who knew where to go, and she'd need his help.

"We need to get to the Low Lantern," she said, looking down to him. His eyebrow rose. "Briel's husband is there."

"Her husband?" he asked suspiciously, getting to his feet and moving down the street towards the docks in the distance. "Why are we going to see Yago?"

"Because he has cursed your daughter," Lene replied simply. "Briel cannot remove the curse, and can't find a way to act against it without knowing what he's done. If we can't find something to counter it, Coran, your daughter will die."

He stopped dead in his tracks and paled significantly. Lene reached out and pulled at his arm gently.

"Come," she said softly. "There is no time. I know this must all be a bit of a shock, but we need to focus on finding information for Briel."

He nodded, blinking several times, and then looking around at his surroundings as if in a daze. "The Low Lantern?" he asked quietly, almost as if to himself. "Then we shall need to go this way…"

--

Lene and Coran cautiously approached the ship that was moored at the far side of the docks. An old, tattered sign swung in the air, proclaiming the vessel to be the Low Lantern. Coran had led the way without a moment's hesitation over its location and now Lene quirked a curious eyebrow at him.

From the outside, it certainly looked as if it was a tavern. But despite her youth, her time in Beregost had trained Lene to see beyond the fading paintwork and the welcoming smiles of the girls who frequently came outside and lounged around on the nearby crates. She knew instantly what kind of establishment lay within, and Coran's obvious former knowledge of it made her wonder what, exactly, he'd been doing there.

She mentally chided herself; it was none of her business, after all, though she was rather surprised. The elf seemed to have no problems finding girls who were instantly won over by his winning smile and lazy drawl, so why he'd have to resort to coming to somewhere like…

But then he'd been with Safana, recently, hadn't he? Lene wondered if the woman had shared her seedy past with Coran or not; or, even worse, if she'd told him about _Lene_, and not herself.

She felt the heat rising to her cheeks, and grew annoyed with herself. What did she care if he knew, anyway? It wasn't like they were even friends; they'd travelled together out of convenience, and though she could admit to herself that she felt a slight attraction, she tried to convince herself that she wasn't really bothered by having any sort of relations with him.

The door was open, letting the warm air pour into the poorly lit room. Lene led the way, pushing her way past Coran as he lingered at the entrance. A quick glance inside confirmed her suspicions; men and women of various ages and appearances were dotted around, most reclining on chairs and other surfaces, and most entwined with at least one other person. She reached out behind her, somehow managing to find Coran's hand. She took a firm grasp at it, and marched inside, pulling him along behind her.

She carefully picked her way between writhing bodies and went towards the counter on the far side. A surly looking man stood behind it, wiping a glass with a remarkably clean looking cloth. He glared sullenly at her as she approached and jerked his head to one side before she could even open her mouth to speak.

"New girl, aye? Ye can use a room in the hull."

Lene flashed a smile at him, glad to note that her unruly appearance mattered little in such a place. Without a word, she dragged Coran along with her and made her way to the dark staircase. It was only when they'd clambered down the first set of stairs and found themselves standing alone on a cramped landing, that she turned to face the elf.

"Does Yago know what you look like?" she asked. Coran shrugged helplessly.

"I don't know. Perhaps… possibly. I'm not sure."

Lene sighed. "Well, we're going to have to try and find a way into his room, I guess, so if he's currently there, you might be best staying back."

"Do you know what you're looking for?"

"Briel gave me a few suggestions," Lene said. "But preferably, his spellbook. Any ideas where it'd be?"

Coran gave her a mild look.

"Well, I'll have to make sure I get a chance to search for it, won't-"

She stopped her whispering, catching sound of footsteps coming from the stairs below. A brief look of panic was shared with Coran, but then suddenly she was swept up in his arms and pushed into the corner with the elf's body firmly pressed against hers, and his mouth clamped across her own. She wasn't sure how long the moment lasted, but by the time the shock had passed he'd released her, and stepped back wearing a sheepish look on his face.

"It was the first thing I thought to do," he whispered apologetically. Lene felt the colour rising in her cheeks, and her eyes fell to the floor shyly.

"It's fine," she mumbled. She forced herself to take a deep breath and regained her composure. Coran was giving her a slightly curious look, but she avoided meeting his eye and, instead, made her way further downstairs as he followed, their hands interlocking once again by mutual consent.

The hull of the ship seemed to have been transformed into several boudoirs. Many of them had their doors closed, and occasionally Lene heard giggling and moaning emanating from behind the wooden panels of the walls. She travelled a little way down one of the wider corridors, and then turned to look at Coran with exasperation.

"How are we meant to find him?" she hissed. "He could be anywhere."

Coran scratched his head, then gave her a quick nod and slipped past, ducking into one of the open rooms. Lene peeked inside; a lone woman was sitting on the edge of a bed, pulling a comb through her hair. A bright smile appeared on her face as she spotted the elf, and she moved as if to stand up, but Coran shook his head at her.

As she settled back down, her smile fading at his serious expression, the elf knelt before her and they conversed in hushed tones. Lene watched as the girl cocked her head to one side; she was very pretty. Waves of golden hair cascaded down and around her shoulders, and she wore nothing but a simple powder blue robe that was so translucent, Lene could make out every curve and mark on the girl's body.

Lene fidgeted nervously as she waited, growing fairly annoyed with Coran's impetuousness. Was the girl even trustworthy? What would stop her from telling the barkeep why they were really here? What if the girl had some kind of loyalty to Yago? She scowled darkly as their conversation continued, and the girl's smile returned to her face. Then the girl looked up and met Lene's eyes, impassively staring past the scowl. Coran's head tilted to the side as the girl said something quietly before giggling, and the elf stood back up, exiting the room with hushed words of thanks.

"This way," he said quietly, pulling Lene along by the hand. "Sarah wasn't sure if he currently had company, or not. He apparently knows the owner, so is renting a room for free while spreading the tale of how his wife was unfaithful to him and how she spawned a… a mongrel child." Coran was clearly speaking through gritted teeth. "This isn't preventing him from enjoying any pleasures available to partake in, though."

"He knows the owner?" Lene's heart began to beat a little faster. "So if anyone discovers why we are here…" She cast a dark look back towards, towards the bedroom with the fair girl. "Is _she_ trustworthy? What if she-"

"I've known Sarah since I arrived in the city," Coran said sharply. "I can trust her."

Lene sighed, but nodded, and continued to follow his lead silently. Before long they arrived outside a grubby looking door that Lene figured was located near the rear of the hull. She looked at Coran, and he nodded to her, raising his hand to knock on the door. But before he could, footsteps could be heard on the other side, and Lene roughly pushed the elf away, and around the corner, out of sight.

The door swung open, and she turned back to see a tall, thin man glaring out at her. His eyes ran from her head, down to her feet, and then back up again, lingering around her torso and chest on the return journey. Then, he smiled, stepping back from the door, and waving at her to go in.

"Don't just stand there," he said, his voice nasal and affected. "Get in and get ready; I've waited long enough for you to arrive as it is."

Lene risked a glance over towards where Coran waited, cautiously peering around the corner of the hall; the elf was watching her intently, though his expression was unreadable. So, after swallowing hard, Lene forced as seductive a smile as she could onto her face, and stepped inside Yago's room.


	13. Chapter 13

Yago was sprawled on a leather chair. He looked Lene up and down very carefully and didn't even try and hide the contempt from his expression. Lene was, once again, acutely aware of the mess she was in, and she wondered how she would manage to talk her way out of _this_.

"You're not like the others," the mage noted, one of his hands casually arranging his robes around him. "I asked them to send down someone with _sophistication_; not some dirty little beggar girl."

Lene felt her temper rise. How dare he! She idly dropped her bag beside the door, and made her way towards the table beside his seat with her most seductive saunter. A false, coy smile curled her lips up, and she made sure she bent over enough to give him a clear view of her cleavage while she batted her eyebrows.

"And she's on her way," she said truthfully, as far as she knew. She hoped Coran would have the sense to stop the girl... "I'm here to help you... warm up."

A dirty leer crossed his face, and he settled back in his chair to take another view of her. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt," he mumbled to himself. "Glad they had the sense to make sure I kept busy, this time."

Lene smiled, slowly picking up a carafe of wine and pouring the mage a hearty drink. He took it and nodded to her appreciatively, and she took the chance to look around while he drained the glass. The room was not big; one single porthole allowed some light in, though the glass was dirty and partly covered in algae on the outside. An unmade bed took up most of the room, seemingly barely large enough for two people to fit onto. By its side was a leather chair, and a wardrobe and a chest completed the rooms scant furnishings. At least she wouldn't have much to look through.

Yago's glass clunked down on the tabletop, and her eyes snapped back to him. Suddenly she noticed how very much he reminded her of Eldoth; his lewd looks, his greasy hair. He had a few years on the bard, admittedly, but the sleaziness was still apparent. Why Brielbara had ever married the man, Lene would never know...

He was talking to her, but she wasn't paying attention. Instead, she was remembering the evening before, the night she'd spent with Eldoth. How she hated herself for it now; she may have spent many nights as a courtesan, but she'd at least had the coin at the end of it to put towards her future. Her fling with Eldoth had been borne of desperation and need; she was disgusted – with herself for ever letting it happen, and with him, for taking advantage of her as he did. For reminding her of what she was.

The women of the village spoke of women like her. They'd believed Nubia was one; but quiet, sweet Lene... no. she could never be like _that_. She was a good girl.

She straddled the mage; his lips were still moving, but he didn't look displeased. She still didn't hear him; a thunderous noise was echoing in her ears, like rushing water. Now and then she'd see one of the village elders in her mind, looking at her sternly, shaking their heads in disappointment. But it wasn't her fault. It wasn't – it was the fault of the old sage; another old mage who'd lusted after her. Who'd ruined her life.

And suddenly, Yago's face turned from an image of Eldoth's to an image of Gorion's. She pulled back slightly, her eyes widening in surprise, but the mage's arms were wrapped around her body and were pulling her back towards him. His lips began to wetly kiss her face, his hands running down her back to her rear. She squirmed and twisted, trying to avoid his amorous attacks. And then, suddenly, everything seemed to stop.

"It's funny, isn't it?" came a voice from her side. She looked over to see Safana standing there, the woman looking as radiant as she had the first day they'd met. "All these _old_ wizards, and their staves are only interested in... you." She laughed lightly at her own joke. Lene's mouth went dry. What in the Nine Hells was happening?

Safana moved closer; so close that she was almost whispering into Lene's ear. "He's as much to blame, you know, as everyone else. So many people involved... all having a part in your downfall. Do you not think it is time to mete out a bit of... retribution?"

"But I..." Lene faltered. "I haven't even met Yago before..."

"And that negates his blame?" Safana tsked and pulled away with a shake of her head and a knowing look. "Someone has to answer for this. They _all_ should answer... Just because you knew not of them, doesn't mean they can escape the consequences."

"But... I don't understand."

"You will, in time." Safana cocked her head to one side. "Think, my darling Lene... This is a mage of immeasurable power; he is senior to his wife in more than just the magical arts, but she was nothing more than a token to him – a prize for his arm. Isn't that how your Gorion would have had you?" The woman leant in again, her hand softly brushing past Lene's cheek. "Men like Yago make others believe they can obtain the same; men like Yago were the inspiration for your return to the old sage. Men like Yago led to your downfall."

"No more," Lene whispered. She barely felt the tear running down her cheek.

"No more," Safana agreed, smiling widely as she backed away. Lene turned back to the mage, a cold feeling surrounding her heart. It took several moments for her thoughts to register the sight.

"Oh gods!" she cried, pulling back from the man, wincing as his limp hand fell from her face to lie motionlessly at her side. His neck was red and beginning to bruise. His face was twisted to a strange angle, and his glassy eyes stared towards the porthole unblinkingly.

She leapt away from his body shakily, running to the door and grabbing her bag. She was about to make her exit when she remembered what she'd come for, and a few breaths were taken as she sought to compose herself. She moved warily towards the wardrobe, frightened that the mage would somehow catch her – she was sure he was dead, but her heart beat so quickly with the adrenaline, that she found herself jumping at noises that came only from her imagination.

The wardrobe was empty, save for a battered looking case, and a few items of clothing; mostly robes, though the wizard had possessed plain tunics and trousers as well. The chest was locked. She cursed under her breath, willing herself the courage to search the man's body for the key. First, she searched the bed, looking under the pillows and mattress, sighing in frustration as her search went unrewarded.

So then she approached the body, her trembling hand reaching out to the belt on the mage's waist. The first pouch revealed only a handful of magical components, and the second possessed only some form of pipeweed. The third was under his weight, and she steeled herself before pushing him as hard as she could to the side, snatching at the final pocket. She backed away as he fell back into place, muting her cry of surprise as his head lolled back around to stare at her accusingly. And then she rummaged in the container, pulling out a small brass key, and quickly unlocking the chest. A large book lay inside, along with several rolled parchments and one round-shaped case. She grabbed all of it, hastily stuffing as much as she could into her bag. Without another look back, she'd fled from the room, closing the door behind her with a slam.

She raced back towards the stairs, her heart beating madly in her chest. It was only as she clambered up to the landing that she paused; Coran stood there with a pretty girl in his arms, the elf whispering quietly into her ear as she giggled. Lene felt sick, and the girl pulled away from the rogue's arms when she noticed they had company.

"I have other business to attend to," she purred at Coran, offering him a seductive smile. "Come and see me sometime..."

"I certainly shall," he promised, watching the girl as she glided down the stairs. As soon as she was out of sight, he turned his attention to Lene, his eyes asking all the questions. She just nodded, grabbing his hand and pulling him with her as she made her way swiftly away from the Low Lantern.

--

Lene didn't stop her frantic pace until she was sure they were well away from the inn. She glanced around at her surroundings, spying a quiet, cobbled street that wound its way quaintly between two rows of houses. Without a word, she led the way down it, only stopping when they reached an open space in the middle, marked by an extraordinarily large oak tree.

Coran followed quietly as she marched underneath its boughs, letting her bag fall to the ground as she knelt by its side, pulling out the goods she'd taken from Yago's chest and standing up, pushing them into the elf's arms. His eyes widened in surprise.

"How...?" he began, but she shook her head, avoiding his gaze as she knelt down to return order to her belongings. Silence surrounded them in that quiet part of the city; not even the faint noises of the markets could be heard. Then it began to rain.

When Lene stood back up she was still flushed from everything that had happened, and Coran was still regarding her curiously. She turned away from him, looking out at the small homes that nestled together under the downpour. Smoke rose from more than one chimney, and she imagined a family sitting in the warmth of their home, sheltered from the rain; sheltered from the harshness of life.

She was envious.

"You'd better take it to Brielbara as soon as you can," she murmured. The elf stayed silent, and she finally turned to face him, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Lene," he said gently. Was that the first time he'd actually used her name while talking to her? She couldn't remember... "Lene, what happened?"

She bit her lip and shook her head once more. "He... he will not bother you again. Or Brielbara. Or anyone." She hefted her bag back over her shoulder, but his hand caught her and prevented her from leaving.

"Something is not right," the elf said calmly. His eyes seemed to be searching her now; he looked worried. "Did he... hurt you?"

She laughed hollowly, and he pulled away from her with a confused look. "No, Coran. He didn't hurt me. He didn't even get the chance. Do you know why?"

He shook his head. She leaned closer to him, whispering conspiringly.

"Because I strangled him while he believed I was there to provide pleasure for him," she said evenly, scaring herself with her own sudden coolness over it all. "And to make doubly sure..." She pulled back, straightening herself up and blinking slowly at him. "To make sure, I broke his neck."

She couldn't tell if the elf had paled or not; his features had been drawn since his conversation with his ex-lover, but there was more than just concern shining through his eyes. There was sympathy and pity, and more than a little fear. Lene closed her eyes, turning away and walking off into the rain. He ran after her.

"Lene, wait! What is wrong? What has happened to you? Has Eldoth given you something?"

She huddled as she strode, feeling the chill of the rain as the drops streamed down her back and her arms. Something pulled at her, guiding her to the side and under an awning, and she offered little resistance. Her mind was full of Yago's glassy gaze and his broken and twisted neck.

"I know what Eldoth had in his bag," Coran said, his voice low and urgent. "And he... he spent the night with you. Did he provide you with some of his wares?"

She nodded dully. Yago's broken face contorted until it resembled Eldoth's once more. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"You need to sleep," the elf said softly. She felt his arm around her shoulder, and she was pulled close to his chest and into the warmth of his body. She shivered.

"Come; I will take you back to the Elfsong. We will make sure you get a room. _Alone_."

The world passed in a daze as they walked in the rain, Coran having removed his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. They arrived back at the Elfsong and she was led upstairs to a room at the end of the corridor. Coran quietly unlocked the door, and gestured for her to go in.

She dropped her bag and sat on the bed. Everything seemed so hazy and distant except for the memory of the mage's body. It was still very, _very_ real.

Coran followed her into the room, closing the door softly behind him, and laying Yago's spellbook and scrolls down on the table. He then strode to the window, pulling the shutters closed until the room was almost shrouded in darkness. A few moments later, a solitary candle was lit and placed on the desk at the end of the bed.

The elf then sat down next to her, taking one of her hands gently in his. His voice was sad.

"I, too, once tried the lotus. But... no more. Never again." His voice became serious; urgent. "Lene, it provides no real escape, you must realise this. People who fall for its false security end up losing their wills. The bard... he should never have allowed this to happen!"

Lene looked up to him with large, vacant eyes. She was tired; _so_ tired. He carefully pushed a lock of hair away from her forehead and down behind her ear.

"Did you leave anything behind in the bard's room?" he asked, seeming to sigh with relief when she shook her head. "Then I advise you to spend the day here. There is plenty of fresh water in the jug; you will have no appetite until the effects have fully worn off."

And then he stood up. "You may have felt happy at the time, Lene, but this is what happens when that effect wears off. Misery, hopelessness; it's not worth it."

She nodded forlornly. She felt so _wretched._ "Your daughter needs you," was all she managed to say. "Take the book to Briel. And... and everything else. Just take it away from me. Please."

And so he left, exchanging her key for Yago's possessions, and letting the door close behind him with a soft 'clink'. Lene lay down on her side; her dress still damp, her boots riddled with holes, and she pulled Coran's cloak tight around her. Within moments, she'd entered a restless sleep.

Lene was sitting at the back of a noblewoman's open-top carriage. A skeletal Yago was driving it, the whip in his hand occasionally snagging on one of his bones. She should have found it funny. She didn't.

Coran and Safana were the other passengers. Safana was carrying a birdcage, and inside was a small bird with Eldoth's face. It never once took its eyes away from Lene.

The elf and the older woman were cuddling together as they sat opposite, the wind blowing their hair around their faces. Neither seemed to be bothered by this.

Lene examined the carriage. It was beautiful; elaborately carved, with bronze studs alone the outside panels, and covered in a golden veneer. The seats were plush, a deep, dark red colour.

"The same colour as blood," Coran suddenly said, winking at her knowingly.

"The same colour as _my _blood once was!" Yago turned towards her, balefully watching her with only the empty sockets in his skull.

"The same colour as my blood?" the Eldoth-bird asked thoughtfully. "No doubt you will soon find out."

Lene recoiled from them, looking over to Safana helplessly. The older woman smiled, and then clicked her fingers. Suddenly, everything froze except for her and Lene.

"Rotters, aren't they?" she purred deliciously. "I've told them before... their sense of humour is just a step too far."

Safana delicately put the birdcage down on the seat beside her, and moved over to sit beside Lene instead. "You must be terribly confused, darling," she said comfortingly. "But you don't need to worry; I'm here with you. I'm _always _here with you. Don't you remember?"

And then Jopi was there, standing beside Yago, his unmoving form staring down at Lene with a mixture of repulsion and fear. "I was here for you when he wasn't," Safana reminded her. "I was here for you, _even though_ you wanted something of mine."

Jopi vanished as Coran blinked once; twice, then gave Lene a lop-sided smile. She shook her head, ready to protest, but Safana's finger was upon her lips before she could utter a sound.

"Don't deny it. I know you better than you know yourself."

And then Safana's hand took Lene's in her own, and made her reach across to the elf, to caress his face, to stroke his chest. Lene tried to resist, but it was futile -- she couldn't disobey Safana's insistence.

"Isn't he terribly precious?" Safana asked, smiling in her usual, sultry manner as she regarded the elf. "Perhaps he's too good to keep to myself. After all... there's plenty of me to go round..."

And then Coran froze into place again, and Safana reached over to pick up the birdcage. Eldoth-bird jumped between the bars, chirping merrily. Safana chuckled.

"And what do we do with the songster?" she wondered aloud. "He was very bad to you. Oh, don't look at me like that. I know what you did with him; I know what he gave you. What _would _your father say...?"

"Lene..."

Lene shrieked as the ghost of Gorion melted into sight beside her, and she cowered against Safana. The older woman put an arm around her protectively, mock-scowling at the elderly sage.

"Now, now..." she said with an exaggerated shake of her head. "You shouldn't go frightening your _daughter_ like that, should you?"

Gorion's ghost sighed sadly, his eyes dropping down to look at the floor of the carriage. "Oh Lene... what has become of you?" he mumbled quietly. "This was not what was planned... this is not what was intended!"

Lene snorted, a surge of confidence rising in her. "No, I bet it wasn't," she snapped, glaring hatefully at the sage as he looked back to her with sad, apparition eyes. "You thought you'd obtained a nice young bride, didn't you? Dare I ask where we were headed that night we left your dull library home? To the nearest temple? Could be not be wed in the fortress because even your esteemed _colleagues_ knew it to be wrong?!"

Gorion looked shocked. "Lene... no. I would nev-"

And he disappeared, Safana having waved a hand irritably. Lene turned to face the woman, her eyes flashing in annoyance.

"What did you do that for?" she hissed. "I wanted to make him pay. He _deserves_ it."

Safana considered Lene lazily, and then offered a shrug. "I thought you would have heard enough," she said, somewhat carefully. "Is it not enough to know that, whatever his plans were, you've failed him also? Just like you've failed your foster parents? Just like you failed the women in the village? Just like you've failed _yourself_?"

"Enough!" Lene barked, pushing Safana away and standing up in the carriage. The older woman dropped the cage she was holding, and its door opened as it hit the ground. Lene looked at the caged bird with loathing.

"Go on," Safana encouraged quietly. "What harm can it do? It's only a dream, after all..."

Lene reached out slowly. The bird watched her, but made no move to avoid her hands.

"He deserves it anyway, doesn't he? After what he did to you... after how he _used _you. You should be the one in charge... you should be the strong one."

Her hand tightened around the bird as she drew it free. It began to struggle, pecking at her and causing her blood to run freely.

"It is time that you showed them," Safana continued softly, "that you are not to be trifled with. You are special, Lene. So very special. And while I am with you, no one will harm you again."

She heard the bones cracking as her grip tightened and tightened, and eventually the bird went limp, falling to the ground as she released it. She looked up at the skeletal Yago.

"You deserved it," she said; but she didn't know why. She just knew that he_ did._ Safana smiled encouragingly to her.

"Good, good," the woman purred. "You are learning. There is hope for you yet, my darling..."


	14. Chapter 14

Lene's head hurt.

The room was in darkness, the candle having burnt itself out while she was asleep. She grumbled to herself as she rolled over, swinging her legs off the bed and sitting up groggily. She could hear activity from downstairs in the inn, and a small sliver of light managed to peek through the edges of the shutters. Surely she'd been asleep longer than a few hours?

She forced herself to stand up, shakily wandering over to the window to throw the shutters open and let the sunlight pour in. People were milling around in the street below, and traders were setting up stalls with produce and wares. She blinked once, then squinted as she looked up to the sun; it was morning? She'd slept all the way through?

She suddenly became very aware of how dry her throat was, her tongue feeling like sandpaper as it rubbed against the roof of her mouth, and she could taste the neglect her teeth had seen in recent times. And then she caught sight of herself in the mirror; knotted hair, torn and filthy clothes, dirty face. A wholly bedraggled appearance.

It was then she started to cry, walking back to her bed and slumping down to sit on the edge as she sobbed miserably. How low had she fallen? Lene, the girl in the village that everyone had loved, that everyone had spoken well of and had great expectations for. Before Gorion had arrived, she had been intent on taking an apprenticeship with one of the village Elders who was a weaver and seamstress. Her parents… her foster parents, had been delighted with the idea, encouraging her on her path.

And then there'd been her friend, Simon. They'd grown up together, been schooled together by the Elders to make sure they knew how to read and write. She'd never seen him as anything more than a playmate when they were young, and then a friend to spend time with when they were older. But he was the only boy her age who'd lived locally, while there'd been two other girls Lene's age. But now, looking back, she _knew_ she'd have married him; she was the Elders' favourite, and her hand would have been encouraged. And they were friends. He would have been happy to take her as his wife, wouldn't he?

She would have had an honest profession and an honest husband. And children. And a farm! Simon was almost running his family's holding by the time Lene was sent away. As his wife, she would have been expected to live there with him.

And then she remembered Jopi; sweet, kind Jopi, who she'd toyed with instinctively, and only later realised how much she'd give to leave her current life behind and find someone like _him_.

But who'd have her now?

Eventually the tears dried up and she stopped feeling quite as sorry for herself; _after all_, she reasoned with herself, _if I hadn't been forced to leave my home, none of this would have happened. So it was all _his_ fault._ She looked around for a tissue or a handkerchief to wipe away the wetness on her cheeks, and paused as her eyes settled on the table next to her bed. She hadn't noticed it before in the dark, but now she saw the tray perched on top, covered with a variety of food; a plate of fresh bread, a small serving of jam with a silver spoon settled beside it, a bowl of strawberries and a jug filled with a faintly purple liquid – juice of some kind, she decided.

And she stood up, marching over to the door and trying the handle. It was locked, as she expected, the key left sitting neatly beside the breakfast tray as she remembered it being when Coran left. So, with a faint smile, and a slightly warm tingle in her chest, she sat back down and poured herself a glass of the liquid and settled down to enjoy her breakfast.

--

When she eventually made her way downstairs and peeked into the Elfsong's common room, she noticed that none of her companions were around. She sighed, unsure if she felt relief or frustration at their non-appearance. Quietly, she slipped away to the inn's entrance and out onto the busy street, clutching her money pouch tightly. The city was still a place of relative awe for her, and with so many people seeing to their business around her, she couldn't help but feel a little intimidated.

Slowly she made her way down the road, trying to keep to the side of the street as horses pulled carts laden with coal and timber past. She tried to browse the wares on display, but felt herself jumping any time someone brushed past, and she'd automatically check to make sure her coins were still in her possession. Her anxiety did nothing but rise, and she was about to give up and return to the inn in defeat when a welcome voice was heard by her side.

"The city can be a daunting place until you are used to the bustle. "Come; take my arm. You'll feel better that way."

With only the barest of nods, she allowed the elf to take her arm, and she soon found herself matching his leisurely pace as they meandered through the stalls. She began to relax.

"How is your daughter?" she asked after a while, noticing more than one woman giving her a hard look as they saw how close she was to the smartly outfitted elf Lene put it down to jealousy. She'd admired his new clothes; he'd obviously spruced himself up, somewhat, for the meeting with his child's mother.

"She has recovered," he replied quietly, his warm tone unusually serious. "I need to thank you for all you did yesterday. Without your guidance, things may have been very different."

Lene fidgeted with her sleeve uncomfortably. "Yago is… I mean. Does Brielbara know?"

Coran nodded. "She was saddened by the news, though she tried to hide it. But I don't think she mourns _him_. She mourns the loss of a partner by her side, and someone to be a father for Namara."

"Aren't you going to fill that role?"

There was a long pause, then finally the elf spoke again. "No. It is not the life for me. I have helped as much as I can, and now… now they are better on their own."

Lene only nodded, not wishing to pry further when Coran had been so guarded in his response. Instead, she took the time to take in her surroundings a little more, noticing that they'd somehow managed to find their way into a fairly commercial district. Shops lined the street, tailors and seamstresses together, and a few people called out the prices of the fabrics on their stalls to any interested passers-by. She gave Coran a slightly surprised glance, and he only offered a lop-sided smile in return.

"Put your purse away," he drawled, leading her towards one a small boutique almost hidden from view down a side road. "I saw the way you looked at yourself yesterday when we were on the ship; this is my way of saying… well, thank you."

--

When they arrived at the Elfsong, Coran helped Lene to her room with her assorted purchases, and then made his excuses as he went to find Safana. _"Meet us in the common room,"_ he'd said, assuring Lene they'd be there within the hour to decide what they were to do next. He didn't say it, but Lene had a suspicion Coran was looking for a way to remove Eldoth from their company. She was ready to agree with him.

And so for the next enjoyable hour or so, she spent time carefully pulling her new clothes and boots from their packages and sorting them into piles on her bed. Coran had been an attentive companion during their time in the shop; he'd known the proprietor for an age, it seemed, and received a very generous discount for their purchases, which he then paid for using only his own coin. Now Lene had a range of tunics, trousers, skirts, dresses and footwear in a variety of colours.

When she'd finished she glanced over to her backpack critically. It was far too small to comfortably take all she now had, and she idly wondered if there was any truth to the mythical bags of holding she'd heard the village elders speaking about when she was little. _If they do exist_, she decided, _then I'm definitely getting one somehow!_

She washed herself as thoroughly as she could in the room's small sink, and changed quickly into a simple pale pink tunic and a matching red skirt. Then she brushed the knots vigorously out of her hair, and nodded approvingly to her reflection in the mirror before she went downstairs, soon spying Safana and Coran sitting at a table beside one of the several grimy windows.

She smiled to them both as she sat down, and quickly noted Safana's sour look as the older woman glared around the inn. Coran looked tired again; Lene assumed they'd been arguing about something, and wasn't surprised when the elf stood up and mumbled something about fetching drinks for them all. As soon as he was out of earshot, Safana leant towards Lene, a hostile glint in her eyes. Lene immediately became tense.

"Do you know where he's been these past days?" she whispered, her eyes boring into Lene. Lene shook her head mutely.

"Damn him," Safana hissed, throwing herself back into her seat and drumming her fingers on the table's surface as she glared into space stonily. "He has left me in that awful room on my own from the moment we arrived here, and he _refuses_ to tell me what he's been doing."

Lene frowned slightly; she had believed that the delay in her coming to the common room that Coran had requested was to give him enough time to tell Safana his newly discovered news. The woman didn't look as if she'd just been notified of his discovery though. "Maybe it's best that you don't know," she offered faintly, suddenly aware that a silence possibly served to make her look more guilty than she felt.

A small smile curled at Safana's lips and she gave Lene a sly smile. "Maybe," the older woman said softly, drawing herself forward to lean on the table with her head resting in one hand. "Perhaps he's been arranging some kind of surprise for me…" Her voice trailed off thoughtfully. Lene swallowed hard and looked away, making a mental note to warn the elf in advance. It was the least she could do.

"And anyway," Safana changed the subject quickly, her eyes settling on Lene in a predatory manner. "I think I'd rather hear about what _you_ have been up to with that charming little man… where is he, by the way?"

Lene gave a nervous laugh, and then rubbed her nose unconsciously. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "I… don't really remember much of the past few days."

Safana's eyes widened. Lene feared the woman knew she was lying, to a degree, and was relieved when the conversation continued.

"Coran mumbled something about him having some of the leaf in his possessions," she said, almost sounding awed, "but I thought he'd picked it up wrong. Did he let you _have_ some?"

Lene offered a weak grin and a nod of the head and Safana squealed delightedly, grabbing the younger girl's arm. "Isn't it an absolute _blast_?" she said excitedly, her voice, however, hushed. "I remember the first time I managed to try some; I acquired it from one of the sailor's on board the ship, and he was not at all impressed to find out I'd discovered his stash and taken some for my own!"

Lene forced herself to giggle along with the woman, and listen as she spoke of the effects it had had on her, and how she'd used it from time to time whenever she was bored. At one point, Lene glanced over to the bar and saw Coran there, watching the woman with a melancholy expression. Noticing Lene's look, he gave an exaggerated wink, but there seemed to be no heart in it. She looked away again, reluctant to be caught staring at her best friend's lover.

"Do you think he'd let me have some?" Safana purred, one of her hands playing with a few strands of her hair. It had been recently cleaned, Lene noticed, much better than she'd managed with her own hair. Safana did, much to the younger girl's annoyance, look amazing; she was wearing a daringly low cut blue blouse, with sleeves that billowed out around her delicate wrists, and a pair of black trousers that clung to her legs and showed off every curve with pride.

"I don't know," Lene said dubiously. "He's very protective of it."

"And yet, you got some…" Safana teased, looking at Lene knowingly until the younger girl blushed and looked away, a small smile on her face despite herself. Safana's good humour was infectious at times like this; despite everything, she was glad to be the older woman's friend, and was glad that there were no plans for them to part company any time soon.

"It's all right," Safana murmured, raising her eyebrow at Lene as Coran returned, and moving away to sit more fully in her own chair. "We won't discuss something like that in front of the men!"

Lene took the drink that Coran offered her thankfully, taking a deep draught from the goblet as Safana looked on in amusement. She tried to ignore Coran's worried frown at her actions.

"So…" Safana said, stretching languidly in her chair as she batted her long lashes in Coran's direction. "What do we have planned, now that we've reached the city?"

Coran offered her a wide grin as he reached out to take her hand, brining it to his lips, and planting a flamboyant kiss atop her palm as she giggled. "Your wish, my darling Safana, is my desire," he announced, sitting down in a chair next to her as she placed her hand possessively on his thigh. Lene shifted uncomfortably and avoided making eye contact.

"I suppose we should sell the pretty rock we… acquired," she said quietly, her eyes flashing with mischief. "And anything else we have that we can part company with. And then we'll have to come to some kind of consensus over how to split the coin…"

"I'm sure that will prove easy," Coran replied easily "You will be two very rich women; the prime catches of Baldur's Gate, I daresay!"

Safana laughed, and Lene made the effort to smile. His words were insincere and jesting, and that just made the reality of it all the crueller. _Who will have a girl like me?_

"But," the elf continued, suddenly becoming serious. "First, I think you need to consider your current… travelling arrangements."

Safana raised a beautifully plucked eyebrow at him. "Your meaning?"

Coran smiled at the older woman. Lene felt a stab of jealousy, and fought against it. "I mean," he said, seemingly mesmerised by Safana's beauty, "that you won't wish to part company with me, of course… or, rather…" A pause signalled the sharing of a kiss between them. "I'm _hoping_ that you won't."

"Not yet, anyway," Safana murmured, her fingers gently tickling Coran's chin as is he were her favourite pet. The elf beamed delightedly.

"However," he noted, "there is the bard."

"Oh, him." Safana waved a hand dismissively. "Lene can decide if he hangs around or not; he's her plaything, it's only fair she keeps him if she wants to."

"I'd rather not," she muttered, believing her voice to be low enough to not be heard. Unfortunately, Safana's hearing was proving to be very acute, and the older woman gave her a slightly surprised stare, and then a slight shrug of the shoulders.

"Then we'll tell him that it was… pleasant?" she asked Lene, giggling as the younger girl felt herself turning pink. "Yes, pleasant I think… but that we need to move on, and we're desperately sorry to see him go."

"Where are we going?" Lene asked.

"Nowhere, darling!" Safana exclaimed. "But he doesn't need to know that."

"What if he says he is willing to travel on with you?" Coran asked thoughtfully. "He may be interested in… ah, sharing Lene's delightful company for a little longer."

Safana tilted her head to the side. "Then we'll just have to be a little more persuasive. If Lene's bored with him, then he needs to go so she can find someone else." The older woman leant across the table and took Lene's hand in hers, squeezing it firmly. "We'll stick together on this," she said, winking.

Lene barely suppressed a sigh. "Speaking of the devil..."

"Good afternoon, fellows of mine," came Eldoth's smooth tones as the bard appeared at their table, easily settling down on a chair next to Lene, much to her dismay. She shifted away slightly, but not far enough. The bard's arm was soon slipping around her waist as he leaned close to her, his breath already reeking of cheap wine.

"And where did you go, my little cupcake?" he asked, his breath warm on her neck. "I waited for your return for a good half hour, but then..." He paused, pulling away slightly and offering an affected wave to a gaudily dressed woman standing close beside the bar. She fluttered her eyelashes in return, and Eldoth licked his lips, slowly turning his gaze back to Lene. "I, ah... yes. I found my entertainment elsewhere."

Lene gave Safana a helpless look, the older woman looking on at the exchange with a bemused expression. Seeing Lene's silent pleading, she suddenly shifted her position, sitting up straight in her chair and fixing Eldoth with a frostily polite expression.

"I'm sure it has been fabulous keeping company with you," she said, her seductive tone also sounding highly dismissive, "but I think our paths should split, now we've reached the city. Wouldn't you agree?"

Eldoth seemed to be completely ignoring the woman, only looking to meet her gaze when the uncomfortable silence had lingered over the table for several long moments. Then he gave a small, forced laugh, looked over at Coran, and then back to Safana and raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't dare to assume you were the brightest diamond to ever shine, even though you have plenty of rough edges to prove your... worth," Eldoth remarked airily. "Surely you're not suggesting that you'd want to be removed from my companionship? Such folly."

"That's exactly what we're suggesting," Coran said darkly.

Eldoth gave the elf a hurt look. "Now, really," he said, withdrawing his arm from Lene, to her relief, and lazily leaning back into his chair. "We've only just arrived here in the city, and I do believe you'll want to meet my esteemed... friend before we part ways."

Coran gave the bard a sceptical look while Safana rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I think-" the woman began.

"My scrumptious little Skie will think you're all so terribly... uncouth. It'll be a marvelous novelty for her, I'm sure."

Lene snorted, and looked over, waiting for Safana to continue with her dismissal. Unfortunately for her, the older woman was looking positively entranced by the bard's words.

"Skie?" she asked. "Skie Silvershield? The _Duke's_ daughter?"

Eldoth grinned broadly and nodded. Lene made no effort to groan, slumping back in her chair as Coran let out an exasperated sigh.

"Dearest Skie has long been a close friend of mine," Eldoth was saying to Safana, "and I promised upon my own breast that I would be sure to visit her when I was next in the city. I'm sure she'd be delightfully charmed to meet people like you."

"Well, perhaps we were being a little hasty," Safana said quickly. "After all; as you've said, we've just arrived here, and we've had hardly any time to enjoy each others company. I'm sure it will be a most exciting experience."

Eldoth leered openly at the older woman. "That sounded like a promise to my own perfect ears – I will look forward to having your _absolute_ attention."

Coran muttered something darkly, slamming his cup down on the table and stalking away from the group. Safana barely paid him any heed at all, turning her full attention to the bard. He ran a hand through his greasy hair, easily basking in what he seemed to believe was feminine admiration.

"Isn't he divinely funny, Lene?" Safana asked coyly.

"Who is Skie Silverdshield?" Lene asked, trying to ignore her friend's obvious pandering to the man. Her stomach was beginning to turn with the thought of having to stay in his company much longer.

"She's the darling of the city, isn't that right Eldoth?" Safana said. "_The_ prettiest and most fashionable young debutante this season, and the girl every young lady wants to be."

"I see," Lene muttered.

"I'm sure you'll adore her," Eldoth said smoothly, turning to the younger girl. "After all... you and Skie have... well, me, in common." He laughed, and Lene stared at him with a renewed sense of revulsion.

"Excuse me," she said, standing up abruptly, and sweeping away from the table with a frown on her face. Inside, she was seething. Just as she thought the lizard was out of her life, he'd managed to cling onto their association by the merit of his acquaintances – or _alleged_ acquaintances. _Why a noble girl would have anything to do with him... he must be making it up!_

"Oh, Lene?" he called after her. She grit her teeth and turned to face him.

"Will you be coming back to my room tonight, or is it your friend's turn to demonstrate her abilities to me?"

Lene just shook her head and left. She wasn't surprised when she ran into Coran just outside the inn, the elf glowering at the city as it went about its business oblivious to his foul temper.

"She thinks you were away arranging a surprise for her," Lene said, drawing up to stand next to him. He looked over to her, and his expression softened slightly. "She asked if I knew where you'd been, and I said no. It was easier for her, I think, to believe you weren't telling her because you were doing something for her."

He said nothing but nodded, letting out a sigh as he stretched, placing his hands behind his head and closing his eyes with the weariness of a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Yesterday, when you asked me if Eldoth had given me anything," Lene continued, her voice lowered. "I told you he had... but I..." She paused, biting her lip nervously as she wondered how to proceed. "I'd never tried... it... before," she managed eventually. "But I... I didn't feel _right_. When we were at the ship, I... I think I was maybe..."

Coran gave her a quizzical look. She looked away from him. "I think I might have been seeing things," she said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. The elf took her arm firmly, and led her away from the inns entrance, to stand a little away from the passing of people.

"What sort of things?" he asked. She gave him a pointed look, but he kept watching her, waiting patiently. She sighed.

"Just... things," she said, slightly irritably. "Look, it doesn't matter."

"It is a known effect," he said, causing her to pause as she made to move away. "The properties of the lotus can cause illusions and cast phantoms to you that come from your deepest fears. It is dangerous, Lene. Keep away from it."

It was her turn just to nod, and she moved away from him, back into the inn and up to her room. She closed and locked the door behind her, sitting down on her bed as she leaned forward, her head resting in her hands.

It had just been the leaf. She wasn't going mad.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **I came across a 'dictionary' of sorts online, full of Ye Olde Thieves Cant (:D) so I apologise for the end of the chapter, and refer you all to the footnotes at the bottom which shall (hopefully) lend to some of it making sense! But... well, it was fun :D

--

Lene managed to avoid Eldoth for two full days before she had the misfortune to run into him. He was sitting with Safana, Coran absent once again as the pair batted eyelashes flirtingly between themselves. The older woman called her over, leaning forward to whisper into the younger girl's ear as Lene perched on one of the hard stools while the bard offered them both a salacious smile, and scuttled off towards the stairs.

"Eldoth needs to make a little trip today, and I told him you'd be happy to accompany him." She offered a wide, self-satisfied smile as Lene stared at her blankly.

"I don't-"

Safana cut her off by pressing one long, slender finger against Lene's lips and turning her head slightly to the side.

"He is off to sell his _goods_," Safana emphasised, "and I think it'd only be fair were you to act as his companion for the day and make sure his proceeds return here safely."

Lene sighed, trying to ignore the woman's encouraging smiles and nods. Had it been anyone but Eldoth, she'd probably have delighted in the chance; his wares were likely to fetch an ample bounty, and it was obvious the older woman had also had the chance to sample them, and, probably, value them in her head.

"Where's Coran?" the younger girl asked, wilfully changing the subject. The elf's absence was noticeable indeed, and for a moment, Lene dared to hope that Safana's interest in him had come to an end.

"Oh, he's upstairs, asleep," Safana purred, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "The poor thing is exhausted; he's barely let me out of the room these past few days…"

Lene felt a small pang of jealousy inside her chest, and she quickly looked away, hoping her expression wasn't readable by the usually very aware Safana; to her relief, the woman's recent use of Eldoth's lotus seemed to have dulled her senses, and when Lene looked back over, she was sitting there with a vacant smile on her face.

"Look, there's something I need to say," Lene said suddenly, surprising even herself, and her throat going incredibly dry. "It's about-"

"Ah, we're ready then." Eldoth's assured tone wasn't carrying a question, but a statement, and Safana slowly rose to her feet, smiling deliriously over to the bard.

"She is _completely_ ready," the woman said, her hips moving from side to side as she swaggered past the man's appreciative glance, offering a wink over to the younger girl. "I will see you when you get back, Lene… But now, I really _must _go and see my darling elf."

Lene stood up, ignoring Eldoth's outstretched hand and longing to punch him in the face as he offered her a smug sneer. She didn't know what was worse; having to spend time with Eldoth, or knowing that Coran was warming Safana's bed – and, indeed, had been for the past two days – while she was sent on this fool's errand.

She sighed heavily. It would be a long day.

--

To Lene's pleasant surprise, Eldoth made no efforts to touch her, or even to talk to her as they walked through the city. She took the opportunity to enjoy the day as much as she could, taking in her surroundings and pausing, now and then, to peer into the dark windows of small curiosity-filled shops.

The bard strode along leisurely, a short-sleeved and ruffled shirt, a pale shade of blue, catching the eyes of the young ladies he passed; and they would giggle and cock their heads bashfully as he smiled over to them, and Lene would roll her eyes and make sure she was walking far enough away from him to avoid association.

She assumed that the bard had managed to work out that she held no further interest in him _or_ his wares. The leaf was hidden away in a bag within a knapsack that he carried casually over his shoulder, his lute innocently strapped beside it. To all watching, he had the appearance of a harmless minstrel, on his way to his next paying performance.

And as for herself; she was bedecked in the some of the clothes she'd purchased with Coran, and her hair was clean and shining from her morning bathing. No few young men offered her approving smiles and subtle winks, but more often than not she merely smiled and turned away, her hands clasped together at her front as she moved through the crowds.

And so they walked on, further than Lene was sure she'd gone previously, and past a large archway that provided access into the city inside the inner wall. Lene peered through curiously as they passed, and was delighted to see a small carnival in one of the open squares, colourful bunting fluttering between the branches of trees and eaves of the nearby buildings. The faint sound of music drifted on the breeze, and the girl had to fight the urge to abandon her current engagement in favour of exploring the fair.

One look over to Eldoth was all it took, though, to make her continue with her task. The bard was giving her one of his sleazy looks, and she barely managed to keep her nose from wrinkling in disgust as she continued on her way, following him along the cobbled street and away from the gaiety and revelry.

Within moments the air turned salty, and the scent of fresh fish was predominant. The road opened up and Lene vaguely recognised the area; it was near the Low Lantern, and she glanced around wildly, her eyes searching for the tavern as her heart began to race. Would anyone here recognise her? They must have found Yago's body by now; what if…

She jumped as someone touched her on the arm, spinning around to see Eldoth giving her a curiously quizzical gaze. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths; the last thing she wanted to do was to explain to him why she was suddenly so jittery, but he hardly appeared interested in any event. He shrugged once, and walked on, letting her jog along behind him until she'd caught up to walk by his side. She loathed herself for being weak, but even walking beside the man and keeping her head down was preferable to feeling vulnerable and in the open.

The fish markets seemed to stretch on forever, but Lene saw no sign of the inn, and she slowly began to relax as the road took them back away from the docks. A magnificently tall building loomed up ahead of them, and Lene was unable to stop her mouth from dropping open slightly as she stared up to its crenelated roof, a small platform cornered by four turreted spires. Huge, magnificently ornate windows glittered slightly in the sunlight, and dozens of carvings and mouldings decorated the edges of the brickwork and masonry. It was unlike any other building she'd seen; even the library at Candlekeep would look tired and ill-kempt in comparison.

"The headquarters of one or other of the merchant houses," came Eldoth's voice. He'd noticed her staring at the building, obviously. "Rather new outfit, from what I hear; have a lot of business over in Sembia, and started a base here to establish themselves on the Sword Coast I imagine."

"Fascinating," Lene murmured sarcastically. The more Eldoth spoke to her, the easier she seemed to find it to dislike him. He just shrugged and went back to ignoring her, and they walked around to the front of the building together in silence. Two massive, heavy oaken doors had been pushed open to allow the easy flow of traffic in and out of the consortium, and a large brass plaque proudly identified the establishment as the Iron Throne. Many merchants were milling around outside at the top of the six marble stairs that led down to the street below, and a bell could be heard ringing somewhere inside. Four uniformed guards looked fairly relaxed as they stood on duty; Lene wondered how exciting a trading coster could get to warrant such a visible guard presence.

But Eldoth didn't bother to slow down in his strides, and Lene had to tear her gaze away from the formidable building as they pressed on along the street. Caravans were passing frequently, most pulled by horses, but a few slower moving wagons were being drawn by a single mule or ox; and their lumbering gaits were causing frustration amongst the drivers and colourful expressions to be hurled amongst the convoys.

They continued down the street, past more merchant houses and trading costers, occasionally having to fight their way between the throes of people making their way to and from the establishments. From the snippets of conversations she managed to overhear in passing, Lene picked up that they were making their way through the merchant's side of the city on the busiest day of the season, when all the foreign caravans descended on the Gate with their wares and tried desperately to secure a financially sound contract to take them back to their own cities.

Eventually Eldoth turned off from the road, following a smaller route around to the rear of one of the merchant's guilds and towards another tall building. This one wasn't nearly as impressive as the quarters of the Iron Throne, Lene noted ruefully; but they were heading straight for it, and it was with some satisfaction to her piqued curiosity that she hoped she'd actually get to see a little bit inside _this_ one_._

It looked a bit like a castle; it was fortified with battlements along the top, and a large portcullis was open at the front. Two large red standards hung at either side, a golden fist embossed on each; Lene found the combined structure and imagery rather intimidating, and wondered just _where_ Eldoth was taking here. The bard's pace hadn't slowed at all, though; he strode through the entrance and into a bare stone hall, Lene trotting along behind him in an effort to keep up. They passed through another set of huge doors and into a large open room, lit only by sconces and torches hanging on the walls intermittently between more of the red banners. Several men stood around the room; they were armoured and armed, watching both her and the bard intently. Each of them proudly wore the red insignia that covered the walls, and curiosity about her location grew larger and larger.

Then, suddenly, Eldoth veered off to the side and Lene was left facing a large plaque in the middle of the room, set atop a plain stone plinth. It read: "Flaming Fist; City of Baldur's Gate Headquarters."

Suddenly she felt sick. The bard knew, didn't he? He'd led her here to turn her in – it had all been a ruse! But _how_ did he know?! How had he found out?

She looked around for him wildly. She wouldn't let him do this to her without a fight; she knew he carried the lotus in his bag; she'd checked it for herself before they left, reluctant as she was to be led on some wild goose chase. If he thought he could report her to someone, then she'd make sure they knew what he was carrying around with him!

He was walking over to a small wooden door that was slightly ajar and Lene all but ran over towards him, trying to reach him before he made it inside. She caught a few of the guardsmen giving her curious looks, but she ignored them all, gritting her teeth as her hatred for the bard raged inside her. _Insipid toad that he is!_

She reached out to grab his arm as he began pushing at the door, and he started in surprise, frowning when he realised it was her. He opened his mouth to say something as she focussed her energy on pulling him away, determined to get him back outside before he could ruin her. But then the door opened from the other side, and a fresh-faced man nodded to Eldoth.

"Lieutenant Dosan will see you now," he said, waving them in. Lene ceased her silent protests as Eldoth shrugged her off, stalking into the room after giving her a very dirty glare. The young man watched her expectantly, and she hesitated, taking one look over her shoulder towards the entrance. It wasn't far; she could make it there before anyone knew what she'd done.

But how long would she survive in a city full of officers?

She slunk past the guardsman and into the dimly lit office, noting that Eldoth was already seated before an old looking mahogany desk. Across from him, and watching her with an unreadable expression, was another man wearing the insignia of the Flaming Fist. He was older than both she and Eldoth, with blonde hair that could easily have been spotted with grey – the lack of light in the room made it hard to tell.

Lene straightened herself up; her whole body tensed, and she prepared for the bard's betrayal as the door closed behind her.

"So," the man called Dosan said. "Eldoth Kron returns, just like the much maligned bad penny. Do you mind telling me who your pretty young friend is?"

The bard was lounging easily in his chair, and he didn't even bother to look over to the girl at all.

"Her name is Lene," he said simply; his tone suggested he was bored.

"Lene? A delightful name. Tell me… Lene. How do you know Eldoth, here?"

She threw a poisonous look at the minstrel, uncaring as to how obvious her loathing was. "I don't really know him at all," she said coldly. "We've only been in each other's company a few days."

The Flaming Fist officer's eyebrow rose and he leaned back in his chair, regarding the pair of them in turn with a faintly amused expression. Eldoth was staring back at Lene impassively, having let out a long sigh at her declaration. Lene was continuing her glare at him.

"Really, cheesecake," the bard said smoothly. "Is that any way to describe what we had? You certainly weren't complaining when you took me to your room and we-"

"That was a mistake!" Lene snapped, suddenly acutely embarrassed of what she'd previously done with him, and even more embarrassed at the prospect of random strangers being made aware of the levels of her self-assumed depravity. "Suffice to say we travelled here in each other's company, and with some other friends of my own, and Eldoth _requested _I come today."

Eldoth smirked. "Well, that, at least, is partly true," he admitted, nodding his head with grace. "Though I was rather hoping your fine friend would have given me her pleasure… again."

Lene's hackles began to rise. What was he implying about Safana? Whatever it was, it had to be a lie – she wouldn't go behind Coran's back for the sake of some greasy two-bit entertainer…

Would she?

"Anyway, the rather sensual Safana asked her young devotee, here, to come instead," Eldoth continued, leaning forward to the desk and lowering his voice slightly, but ensuring it was still loud enough for Lene to hear. "I must say, there is some charm to experiencing the skills of the student, but the event pales significantly when one then has the fortune to spend time with the mistress herself."

Lene's cheeks were burning now. She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed to materialise. The feeling of rage inside was becoming all-too familiar, and it was taking a good deal of her concentration to stay in control.

"Oh, I don't know," Lieutenant Dosan remarked conversationally. He hadn't stopped looking at Lene since she snapped at Eldoth. "Perhaps it has more to do with how you treat them, than what you expect from them."

Eldoth snorted, collapsing back into the chair again as the officer openly smiled to her, and waved his hand towards a cushioned seat behind the door.

"Please do take a seat, my dear," he said. Lene said nothing, frowning, instead, at both of the men as she moved over and sat down in the gloomy shadows that lined the edges of the room. Without any further ado, the lieutenant turned his attention back to Eldoth, and his expression turned serious.

"I trust you're not foolish enough to take along anyone who can't be trusted," Dosan remarked conversationally, "so we'll just get down to business, eh?"

"As you wish," Eldoth said, leaning over the side of his chair to pick up his backpack. Lene watched in confusion; this wasn't what she'd expected at all.

"It is all here, more or less," the bard continued, bringing out the sack of lotus and placing it brazenly on the desk. "And I believe it's earlier than you expected, as well. Perhaps that would be enough to warrant a small bonus, hmm?"

Dosan stood up from his seat and pulled the bag closer to his side of the table. He carefully unknotted the top, then placed his hands inside. Lene could just make out the brittle leaves rolling through his fingers.

"The bag is not quite full, Kron," the blonde man stated.

"Some contents may have become displaced whilst travelling. It is an unfortunate hazard in the business."

"And a costly one at that," Dosan said. "But I'm a fair man," he continued, sitting back down as Eldoth moved forward to obviously protest. "You were here early after all, so I'll give you what we agreed, minus a five-score for the missing contents. What say you?"

Eldoth's face was as black as thunder. "I say that for a supposed man of the law, you've got the blood of a thief flowing through your veins."

Dosan laughed. "Perhaps I do, perhaps I do," he said genially. "Of course, if the proposed payment is of no interest to you, I could simply arrest you and 'confiscate' your goods."

Eldoth stood up abruptly. "The deal with _suffice_, lieutenant. But my time is short; I must ask for the payment now, for I have other business to attend to."

"Of course." The officer reached up to his neck and pulled free a long chain with a single key hanging at the end. Wordlessly he bent forward, unlocking a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a bag identical to the one Eldoth had passed to him.

"You'll find it's all there," he said, passing it to the sullen bard. "I took the liberty of making the necessary deductions when you first arrived in the city…"

Eldoth grunted, snatching the bag from Dosan's hands and turning on his heel as he swiftly stalked away. Lene jumped to her feet, still confused by everything she'd seen, and dashed after him as he exited the room, ignoring the officer's calls of goodbye. However, when her own name was called out, she paused, and hesitantly looked back to the blonde man.

"Good day to you, Lene," he said, a small smile playing on his face. "It was… enchanting to meet you."

She said nothing, turning away to run out of the door and after Eldoth as he stormed out of the building and onto the street outside. She grabbed his arm when she caught him, and he whirled to face her, his eyes glinting dangerously.

"What was all that about?" she asked. With one simple move, he'd brushed her hand away from his arm, and grabbed her in return, despite her squeals of protest. He dragged her after him as he strode away from the compound and down a side street, away from the crowds.

"_That_ was a simple business deal that you're better off not asking about," he said, "especially _not_ outside the Flaming Fist building, my dear _cheesecake._" He let go of her arm, and she immediately began to nurse where he'd dug his nails into her skin.

Eldoth looked around at the alley and then cursed loudly, dropping his backpack to the ground and stuffing the sack inside it. When he was done, he picked it up and swung it over his shoulders, then aimed a kick at a nearby sack of flour, causing a cloud of dust to fill the air.

"I need a drink."

--

Lene wasn't sure why she followed Eldoth to the inn, or why she stayed there, watching the bard as he took one of the serving wenches in the alcove under the stairs; but she did, probably because Safana had told her to make sure he returned to the Elfsong. And so, she slowly sipped at her glass of brandy, trying to work out just what had happened.

The deed between the barmaid and the bard was fast and furious, with him obviously working off the irritation he'd displayed previously, and seeming much more composed, if sweaty, on his return to the table. She only took a moment to readjust her skirt, before returning to work, serving the handful of customers sitting around the counter at the bar with a look of youthful innocence on her face.

They didn't converse; both seemed happy enough to sit in thoughtful silence, and it was only after several hours had passed, and the sun was beginning to set outside, that Eldoth finally stood up on shaky feet and picked up his backpack.

"Are you going back to the Elfsong?" Lene asked, causing the bard to start, almost as if he'd forgotten she was there. He peered at her for a moment, and she wondered just how much he'd had to drink. And then he offered her a charming smile.

"If that's where you're going, my pretty young bunny, then so am I!"

She sighed heavily, but forced herself to smile at him. She'd deliver him – and his payment – to Safana, and then the older woman could deal with him.

They strode out into the chill of the dusk, and Lene gave an involuntary shiver, wishing she'd remembered to bring a cloak with her. Then she remembered that she still had Coran's cloak, hanging on a peg inside the door of her room, and she couldn't help but smile slightly to herself. It made the slow walk back more bearable.

They were only about halfway there when Eldoth decided to take a shortcut down a dark side street, and Lene sighed in frustration as she followed him, the bard unmovable in his determination. There were no other citizens around, and all too soon the girl had a bad feeling about the area. Her fears were realised when two figures stepped out of the shadows before them – Lene turned around to note, with a sinking heart, that another figure was blocking their retreat.

"Well," came a voice from one of the figures before them. It was rough and common, and very, very confident. "If'n it ain't our old bracket-faced pal!"

"Aye Narlen, yer right," his accomplice replied, smirking at the bard. "The biggest burr o' the lot o' 'em."

The man called Narlen smiled broadly, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed Eldoth carefully. He wasn't much taller than the bard, and barely had any more muscle on him; in fact, Lene realised, with a certain amount of fascination, that all three men in front of her were quite skinny and lanky. She didn't bother to have a look at the man standing behind.

"Now Niklos, dun be se harsh on 'im," Narlen said. "I'm sure 'e 'as a very good reason fer 'is little disappearin' act, aye?"

"Ah, it's… you two," Eldoth said, sobering up rather quickly. "I'm delighted. Obviously."

"Alatos ain't quite as cheerful as ye appear te be," Narlen noted disapprovingly. "In fact, 'e's 'ad us keepin' our peepers peel'd since ye last vanished."

"His concern is truly touching," Eldoth remarked dryly.

"T'ain't wise te talk bad o' the boss, a dandyprat like yersel," Niklos warned.

"Then you have my _sincerest_ apologies," Eldoth sneered. "Is that better?"

Lene's eyes widened slightly. Though the men had been remarkably casual so far, she could tell that they weren't on completely friendly terms with the bard, and by the looks on their faces, they were rapidly beginning to lose patience with him. She shuffled over to the side, hoping that distancing herself from him would be enough for her to be ignored. It had completely the opposite effect.

"What's this then, aye?" Narlen asked, his eyes darting over to her. To her complete surprise, he didn't let his gaze drift all over her body; instead, his dark eyes fixed onto hers, and the look was so intense that she found herself looking away.

"A bit o' a dimber cloven, aye?" Narlen continued, grinning widely as Niklos chuckled. "Tell us, lass; why are ye hangin' 'round wi' a ben like this?" He jerked his finger in Eldoth's direction. Lene stared at him blankly.

"Uhm," she said, looking over to Eldoth. The bard ignored her completely, so she looked back at Narlen. "I beg your pardon?"

Narlen and Niklos exchanged an amused glance, then Niklos cleared his throat noisily and offered a short, mocking bow.

"Good eve to you, my lady," he said, his voice pitched high and with an affected tone. "One does wonder why such a nice girl is spending time with a scoundrel such as Lord Kron."

"'E ain't a Lord yet," Narlen noted. "Not while th'lovely Lady Silvershield's da' still lives and keeps her _valuables_ under lock an' key!" The two shared a laugh again, and Eldoth shifted his position, seemingly irritated by their humour.

"Aah, anyways," Narlen said, wiping at one of his eyes as he looked back to the bard. "I think ye know why we're 'ere, aye? Ye ferret'd us, an' we dun tend te forgive and ferget."

"I think there must be some kind of mistake," Eldoth said. "I haven't cheated anyone."

"Well, mebbe I'll have te give ye a knock on th' costard te remind ye?" Niklos offered, stepping forward as he spoke. Eldoth's bravado seemed to crack at this point; the bard took a small step back and held up his hands assentingly.

"No need for that! I'm sure we can sort something out."

"Aye, I'm sure we can," Narlen said. "We did try an' catch ye when ye first arrived back, but ye can be a bit o' a vagrant when ye likes. Ye see, our boss would o' happily taken yer goods off yer hands fer ye, but ye managed te get them te Dosan first. So now we need te get… somethin' else."

Niklos darted forward, suddenly grabbing Eldoth's arm and pushing it behind him, causing the bard to cry out in pain. Narlen shook his head disapprovingly.

"No whindlin' if'n ye please," the rogue said. "Puts me right off me dinner. An' there's no need fer ye to get quite se pale; me boss dun want ye back'd or maim'd. 'E just wants wot e's due."

"'Is bag's full o' somethin'," Niklos noted, using his free hand to work the straps on the backpack so he could have a better look inside. "Might well be our bacon. Looks like 'e's been well paid by the bandog, Narlen. Might be wot we're lookin' fer, aye?"

"I'm sure our brother o' th' string'll let us have a look," Narlen nodded, prompting Niklos to roughly pull the bag from Eldoth's arms, before shoving the bard down to his knees. The third man appeared from the gloomy shadows, standing over Lene's companion while Niklos turned his attention to the backpack.

"Plen'y o' balsom and baubles in 'ere," Niklos eventually reported, grinning widely. "I'd wager there's enough te pay the boss back fair an' square."

"Lucky fer ye then, Kron," Narlen said, producing a knife from somewhere, and gently running his finger along its shining edge. "Course, had ye no' been in a position te pay, in yer fluster'd state, we'd have had te think o' somethin' else." He nodded over to Niklos. "Take the lot!"

Niklos heaved the bag over his own shoulders and moved away as Narlen walked over to Eldoth, kneeling before the bard who was a pitiful sight to Lene's eyes.

"It's a waste o' me time te be sent after the likes o' yersel', ye bleedin' hector," the rogue said darkly. "So, te save me time in th' future; I'll be havin' yer tats, if'n ye please."

Lene watched as Eldoth's shaking hands slowly went to his pockets and withdrew something too small for her to make out. He handed it over to the thief wordlessly, completely avoiding any eye contact. Narlen smiled smugly.

"Yer too caw-handed te play us at our games, gob," Narlen continued quietly. "Take this as yer one an' only warning' – try te fob any o' us off again, an' I'll pummel ye well an' good. An' none o' yer glaverin'll help ye."

Narlen stood back up; Lene looked around but could see no sign of Niklos or the other rogue, but was certain they'd still be there, watching from the shadows as they quietly backed up their fellow. For a moment, she wondered if Narlen was going to kick Eldoth, or follow through on his silent threats of using his knife. But instead, he looked up and met her eyes again; there was no hostility levelled at her, however.

"As fer ye," Narlen said. "We know o' ye, though no' as much as we'd like. Ye hush'd old Yago good an' proper, but since ye saved us the bother o' havin' te, we decided te let it pass. Take all this as a warnin' te yerself as well, m'dear. If'n ye've come te the city te bubble, ye'll end up on our wrong side. An' I be thinkin' ye don't want that."

Lene had no idea what most of his words meant, but the mention of Yago's name was enough to make her pale, and she could easily imagine what his meaning was. She shook her head slightly. Narlen offered her a polite smile.

"Then I'll tak' me leave, and gi'e ye just one bit o' advice before; this goatish by-blow's no good fer anyone, least o' all a young 'un like yersel'. Leave 'im behind; it'll be the best thing ye can do."

And then they were gone, Narlen raising his fingers to his forehead as if tipping an invisible hat to her before the shadows consumed them, and Lene and Eldoth were left alone in the alley once again. She dared not to move for several moments, only relaxing when she was sure the thieves had truly departed with their prize.

She quickly moved over to Eldoth, intending to help him to his feet but pausing just short of his still kneeling form when she noticed his shoulders were shaking. She frowned slightly.

"Eldoth?" she asked.

The bard paid her no heed, scrabbling to his feet as he sniffled and cursed, staggering along the side street as he dragged his feet. Lene began to follow him warily; his actions became more and more erratic, and by the time they reached the main roads once again, he was flapping his arms around and cursing the entire city.

People began to look over at him as he shoved his way onto the evening street, pushing past the shoppers and merchants who were heading to their homes. Most began to veer away from him, seemingly fearful of his deranged look, and Lene hesitated. Her task was over, now; Eldoth had no coin for Safana to crow over, and she'd be as well just to leave him to go mad on his own.

But, somewhere deep inside her, something stirred and she felt ashamed of her willingness to just abandon him, penniless and helpless as he was. With a sigh, she forced herself to walk over to him, grabbing his arm firmly and somewhat surprised that he didn't just lash out at her. Before he could think to, though, she began to drag him along with her, determined to get him back to the inn and into a room – _alone_ – for the evening.

Then she'd make sure that Safana decided what to do with him in the morning.

--

**Glossary**

Bracket-face: ugly, ill-favoured

Burr: hanger-on

Peepers: eyes

Dandyprat: a puny little fellow

Cloven: A young woman who tries to pass as a maid, but isn't one

Dimber: pretty

A Ben: A foolish fellow

Ferreted: cheated

Costard: head

Whindle: a low or feigned cry

Backed: dead

Bacon: prize

Bandog: a sergeant

Brother of the String: a fiddler/harper/etc

Balsom: money

Baubles: jewels

Hector: swaggering coward

Tats: false dice

Caw-handed: not nimble or dextrous

Gob: a songster

Glaver: to fawn and flatter

Hush'd: murdered

Bubble: to deceive/cheat

Goatish: lecherous/wanton

By-blow: Bastard


	16. Chapter 16

Safana's eyes widened, and Lene instinctively knew that the woman was romanticising the whole event in her mind as she listened to the younger girl's recollection.

"And then what?" she asked, leaning forward on the table, her elbow resting on the polished wooden surface, and her hand cupping her chin. "Did they offer to show you their hideout?"

Lene frowned. "No," she said, her eyes darting over to Coran. The elf was reclining in his chair, a content look on his face. Lene didn't want to think it was because of the attention he'd been getting from Safana. "They told me I'd be better off without sharing his company, and then they scarpered. _With_ his coin."

Safana pouted. "Meanies," she said airily. "They could have left him with _some_ of his business, instead of being so unsporting!"

"I think their point was that, if Eldoth hadn't cheated them-"

"It's their word against his, darling."

"-then they wouldn't have taken _anything_ from him." Lene sighed at the conversation; she'd thought Safana would have had enough with the bard, but obviously not. For reasons completely beyond Lene's comprehension, the older woman seemed to be inclined to keep Eldoth hanging around them. "He's penniless now, you know."

Safana's nose wrinkled. "Really?" she asked.

"Really," Lene assured her. "I had to pay for his room last night."

The woman drew back, a thoughtful frown on her face. She turned to her lover, and he raised his eyebrow at her questioningly.

"Lene, here, says our bardic friend can't even provide for himself," she purred. "Do you think we should shoo him away?"

Coran rolled his eyes slightly. "I think he's been nothing but trouble since we first met his unfortunate acquaintance," the elf replied simply. "But I guess you will do as you want to do, regardless of anything I might suggest."

Safana seemed oblivious to his cool words; indeed, to Lene she seemed oblivious to his whole reply, having turned away as soon as she asked, her eyes staring across the bar at some unknown point.

"We shall see what he says for himself," she murmured to herself softly. "For should we speak of the devil, then the devil will surely appear…"

Lene groaned as someone slumped into the seat beside her, and an arm automatically went around her waist. She firmly removed the offending appendage, glaring at Eldoth coldly as she stood up and deliberately moved her stool away from him. Safana watched her with an amused expression; Coran was giving the bard an unfriendly look.

"Such a warm welcome," Eldoth murmured; his eyes were circled by large, dark shadows, and his skin was pallid and grey. He looked awful. "Am I right in guessing that yesterday was _not_ just a terrible nightmare, and that my best laid plans did, indeed, go astray?"

"You could say that," Safana said. "Lene told us all about your little escapade."

"How generous of her," he sneered, glaring down at his own hands as they rested shakily on the table. "Still, it is good to have friends in times like these, is it not? After all, I've looked out for you both…"

Lene snorted.

Eldoth's eyes rose to meet the younger girl's. "You weren't saying that when you sampled my wares, were you?" he said darkly. "And you _certainly_ weren't saying that when you let me rove all over your body, showing me exactly how you do your job."

Lene frowned and started to protest, but Eldoth continued, his eyes darting over to Safana, and a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"And neither was your teacher."

For a moment there was silence; a deep, uneasy silence, where Lene found herself almost subconsciously leaning back as Coran's eyes grew wider, and his attention turned to Safana.

"What does he mean?"

Safana smiled to the elf, but there was something strange in her eyes; a look that Lene couldn't remember ever seeing before on the normally confident woman.

Fear.

"He means _nothing_," Safana said firmly, her predatory smile being flashed towards Coran. His expression remained changeless, and she batted her eyelashes. "He gave me some of his goods to try, and it was… pleasurable," she said, waving a hand dismissively as if the conversation was ended.

Coran didn't seem to agree.

"And how did you _pay_ him for his generosity, Safana? For I daresay that the bard wasn't handing out the leaf due to the goodness of his heart."

The woman's eyes flashed dangerously. "You dare to question my actions? I am not your _possession_, elf, and I do not like to be treated as one. Do I make judgement on you when I see you undressing the bar wenches with your eyes?"

Coran looked furious. He opened his mouth to speak, but then it snapped shut just as quickly, and he shook his head, looking at Safana with no little amount of disgust in his expression. Wordlessly he stood up and stalked away; Safana didn't even watch.

"Well now," Eldoth remarked, having watched the scene with open fascination. "Perhaps we can move onto more pressing matters, now your little bedroom dispute has been concluded."

"I don't think we have any more matters to attend to," Safana declared frostily. With no coin and no lotus, Eldoth was apparently no attraction to her any more. "I'd love to say that your company has been delightful, but, in all honesty, I've shared my room with cockroaches that possessed more charm."

"You wound me, my delicious strawberry," the bard said. "And so dismissive of me. I fear I shan't be able to overcome the hurt I feel; ah, at least, not until my sweet, sweet Skie takes me into her fond embrace, and all will be right with the world once more."

Safana's ears seemed to prick up at the mention of the noblewoman. Lene groaned.

"Well, if she'll be so comforting for you, why don't you go off and seek solace with her instead of us?" the younger girl asked.

Eldoth looked at Lene as if she was the most offensive looking woman he'd ever laid eyes on. "Well, perhaps I shall," he said, shrugging slightly and slowly moving to stand up. "It was fully my intention of going to see her today, if you _must_ know; she will be waiting for my return, and I did promise to take her along with me on my next adventure." He sniffed slightly, standing up. "I thought it would have been nice for her to have some other females around; she gets so lonely sometimes. But, it is obviously not meant to be…"

And he turned, walking away from the table with his head held ridiculously high. Lene felt some relief wash over her; he was gone, at long last! She wouldn't have to feel his lecherous gaze lingering on her, or remember the leery touch of his hands from the night they'd spent together.

She was free from him.

"Wait!"

Safana stood as she cried out, and Eldoth paused; slowly and deliberately turning around with a look of hurt and indignation on his features.

"Perhaps we have been too hasty," Safana said, her voice full of a dangerous thoughtfulness. Lene gaped at her.

"What in the nine hells are you doing?" she asked. Safana ignored her, smiling when Eldoth swaggered back to the table, his eyes firmly fixed to the older woman.

"Well," he said easily, reaching over the table as he sat, pulling Coran's half-empty mug towards him. "I'm glad you decided to hear me out; I have a plan that I'm sure will satisfy your every need and desire."

Safana had gone from looking bored with the bard, to looking almost spellbound. She watched him with a calculated look, but she drank in his words as if they were made from the purest honey.

"It is no secret that I, Eldoth Kron, master bard, am lacking financially at the moment," he said, raising the cup to his lips and taking a deep drink.

"You mean you're destitute," Lene noted darkly. She was wondering if she should follow Coran's example and maybe try and catch the elf before he left for good.

"But _whatever_ you think of me," he continued blithely, "don't doubt that I do hold the Lady Silvershield's favour most securely in my grasp. And with her favour, comes a fortune that is so easily obtainable that I almost feel bad for even considering it."

"Go on," Safana purred.

"It's no secret that Duke Entar Shilvershield cares for his daughter, almost to levels of extreme obsession," the bard continued smoothly. "And now his son, Eddard, has gone missing, and the ties that bind my beloved Skie are greater than normal. He holds her almost captive in their home, and she longs for her freedom. We could help her achieve that freedom."

"Mmm," Safana mused. "Much though the idea of meeting yummy young Skie appeals to me, I'm not seeing how this can lead to any financial gain. Surely daddy dearest will just send the guards after his beloved, or disown her? Either way, I can't see how a penny of his fortune will make it to us."

Eldoth smiled slyly. "You are right, of course, my poppet. However, if the Duke were to believe that his own flesh and blood had been cruelly _kidnapped_, especially so soon after his son's disappearance… well. He'd do anything to ensure her safety, wouldn't he?"

Lene's mouth dropped open. "You cannot _seriously_ expect us to take part in this?" she asked. "It's… it's vile!"

"It's magnificent," Safana said, her eyes wide with admiration. "But tell me; how would we evade detection from the Guard? Kidnapping is no easy feat, and you're choosing one of the most prominent figures in all Baldur's Gate to target."

"Ah, there is no need to worry about that," Eldoth said, grinning triumphantly. "Skie will co-operate with us whole-heartedly; she longs to escape her beastly father, and there is no need for us to even leave the comforts of the city. The Gate has many places where the guard cannot pry. We can lay low until we've made a suitable amount, and then... then all of Faerun is open for us."

Lene stood up. "You can't seriously be thinking of helping him with this?" she said to Safana. "Please tell me you're not!"

The older woman glanced over to Lene coolly. "And why not?" she asked. "As Eldoth says – it'll benefit both of us, him, and dear Skie. There are no losers… except for the Duke!"

Safana and Eldoth then shared a laugh, raising their glasses together to clink their agreement. Lene shook her head.

"Well, this is nothing to do with me. Nothing _at all_."

And with that she marched away from the table, sprinting upstairs to the room Safana shared with Coran. She knocked on the door, but all was silent.

"Coran?" she called, trying to peek through the keyhole. She could only see a small area of the room, but her instinct told her that no one was inside. She sighed heavily, and wandered back down the stairs and out to the street.

Had he left? Surely he'd known what Safana was like? Did he really expect anything less from her? Of course, he'd looked so serene that morning; perhaps he'd fallen properly for the older woman, and her betrayal had hurt more than he'd imagined.

She felt a small stab of loss. Couldn't he have stayed long enough to say goodbye to her? She knew they'd gotten off on the wrong foot, but recently they seemed to have shared an understanding – a _friendship_ of sorts. If he'd gone, then she knew she'd miss his presence. It was hard to feel alone when he was there, doing his best to brighten up anyone looking sad.

It was raining. She'd left Coran's cloak in her room, but she couldn't find the effort to go and fetch it. Instead she wandered morosely down the street, feeling alone and dismayed by the way things had happened. Not only would she likely have to suffer Eldoth's continued company, but she'd have to take _some_ part in his outrageous plans to extort money from his lady friend's father, even if it was just by having the knowledge that it was happening. And of course, he'd waste no opportunity in using his latest beau to make Lene feel even more worthless about herself.

She could, of course, just leave Safana's company. She had more than enough coin to go her own way, but her wealth wouldn't last her forever, and she only knew one way of securing regular payments; and she wanted _that_ even less than she wanted to share Eldoth's distant company.

She sighed heavily, stopping at the side of a small garden and watching a small black cat as it sheltered under the awning above the door. It was wet and looked quite miserable, huddled against the wooden frame as it patiently waited for its master or mistress to return and grant it access to the warmth and dryness inside.

Lene sympathised with its plight, but also felt a small amount of jealousy. The cat was in a sorry state at that moment, there was no doubt; but soon enough all that would change, and it would be loved and tended to once again. The house was well maintained, and the garden tidy; Lene guessed that a merchant probably lived within, and she imagined him as a plump, middle aged man with thinning hair and a jolly smile. His wife was younger, but she loved him regardless of the difference in age, and their two young children – a boy and a girl – were happy and bright. An idyllic family home.

Something she'd never have.

She dragged herself away, continuing her aimless walk down the streets, barely paying attention to anything or anyone. Some people stared at her, now fully soaked by the rain, and dressed in a simple slip of a dress. Her hair was sticking to the sides of her face, and she couldn't even be bothered to push it back. Suddenly it all seemed so pointless.

She'd no idea how long she'd walked for when she looked up and saw the tall building of the Iron Throne looming ahead of her. She stopped, standing directly before it and gazing up at the doors. They'd been shut, keeping the weather out, while lights shone brightly beyond the windows. Occasionally a merchant would slip out, noting the weather with a wrinkled face, and flagging down a passing carriage if he was lucky enough to have one pass.

The rain continued, and she kept staring. Something compelled her to stay there; to just watch the building as the rain ran down her arms and dripped from the hem of her dress. The street was eerily empty; the overcast clouds made the day feel later than it was, and many of the locals had seemingly decided that there was little effort in trying to brave the weather that day.

She barely flinched when someone touched her arm, but her heart gave a small flutter, and the corners of her mouth tugged upwards. She turned to face her companion, fully expecting the warm, slightly melancholy smile that the elf was prone to wearing these last few weeks.

But it wasn't him; her face fell, and her look of dismay must have been apparent, as Lieutenant Dosan quirked an eyebrow and then nodded to her amiably.

"Strange weather for sightseeing," he remarked casually.

Lene just sighed and turned away, staring back at the compound before her. She felt Dosan's keen eye resting on her, and then he calmly linked his arm in hers, gently pulling her away from her vigil. She offered little in the way of resistance.

--

"So, what are you doing here in the city?"

Lene stared blankly at the goblet sitting before her. Dosan had led her to this inn; a tawdry place, dimly lit and with a stale smell in the air. The corner he'd chosen for them was slightly out of the way of the cloud of smoke hanging around the rest of the room, and was almost so dark that she couldn't make his features out at all.

He was sitting next to her, both of them almost nestled into an alcove, facing the mingling patrons who ignored them wholly in turn. The lack of locals on the street was explained by the masses who'd sought refuge in the inn, seeking solace from the weather in a deep mug and a serving girl's smile.

Lene had briefly wondered if she was the only female customer, but then apathy and depression had overwhelmed her again, and she'd not cared.

The Captain of the Flaming Fist patiently waited to see if she had an answer for him, but she just continued to stare at the vessel before her. _At least_, she thought, _my clothes are beginning to dry out a little._

But then she wondered why that was even important, and couldn't answer herself. She sighed.

"Bad question? Let me try another one, then," the man said conversationally. "How did you meet a scoundrel like Kron?"

Just the mention of the bard's name was enough to elicit a snort from Lene, her nose wrinkling in disgust and a glare forming on her face. Dosan laughed.

"I wondered if that would get you fired up," he admitted. "You're a strange sight for the eyes, that's for sure. Most of Kron's usual alliances are bent under the weight of their face paint, and bow-legged due to practice."

"I'm no different from them," Lene muttered darkly, snatching the glass up and taking a sip of the wine. It was powerfully bitter, and it brought a tear to her eye as it burnt her throat. She pushed the goblet away, disgust on her face. She wasn't sure if it was because of her admission, or because of the wine.

"If you say so." Dosan shrugged, lounging back on the bench, and putting his arm along the back. Lene frowned slightly, but didn't shift her position.

"What do you want?" she asked suddenly, peering at him through narrowed eyes.

"Me?" he asked, a voice of innocence. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Then why did you drag me here?"

He chuckled. "Now, _dragging_ is a very misleading term. You offered no resistance to my guidance, and I thought it better to see you out of the rain before you caught the death."

"Perhaps I wanted to catch it," Lene muttered, slumping into her seat and glaring at nothing in particular. His arm shifted slightly, his hand coming to a rest on her shoulder. She tensed.

"Now, there's no reason why a young thing should be saying something like that."

"Oh, you have no idea," she said. "Or maybe you do, actually; after all, aren't you hoping I'll drink the pigswill you've bought for me? Do you hope it'll dull my senses, leave me open to your sweet words and enticing, but empty, promises? Because, if so, you've wasted your coin. You see – you don't even _need_ to try to get me! Just say the word, tell me what I'm worth, and I'll give you the night of your _life_."

She looked at the man, his face only occasionally illuminated by the distant flickering of the tavern fire. He was looking at her with wide eyes, but there was no shock or bashfulness there. He was surprised, but looked to be pleasantly so. His arm was withdrawn from her shoulder, and she sighed internally, wishing she'd drunk more of the foul liquid so she could at least blame the drink.

He leaned slightly away from her, his hand going down and into one of his pockets. She heard some coins jingling around, and he pulled a handful free, appraising them as much as he appraised her.

"I'm sure we can come to an agreeable barter."

--

When Lene arrived back at the Elfsong it was mid-afternoon, and Safana seemed to be waiting for her. The older woman's eyebrow arched, and she asked, rather acidly, if Lene had succeeded in finding Coran.

"No," the younger woman replied simply.

Safana clicked her tongue. "You were gone an age. I thought…"

"You thought what? That I'd found him and offered him comfort in my arms?"

Safana's face hardened. "You're free to do as you choose, though I'd be surprised if you aimed so low as to seduce my cast-offs. Anyway, Eldoth is waiting for us."

The woman turned on her heel, stalking away as she pulled a cape across her shoulders. Lene watched her go for a few seconds.

"You don't expect me to _help_ you with this, do you?"

Safana paused, slowly turning to look at Lene with a decidedly unfriendly expression. "After all I've done for you, darling, I expect nothing less."

Lene flinched as if she'd been slapped. It was true, wasn't it? The older woman had helped her when she was alone and helpless; if it hadn't been for her, she'd have nothing to her name, and certainly not the comfort and coin she possessed then. She sighed heavily and ran after her friend.

"I'm sorry," she said, catching up and peering over to see if the older woman was still looking angry. "It's just Eldoth… he really annoys me, you know?"

To her surprise, Safana's lips curled up into a smile and the woman nodded as their eyes met. "He's dreadful, isn't he? Really, Lene; I thought you were besotted with him at first, and that's the only reason I permitted him to stay with us."

Lene laughed. "Gods, no! I mean… he can be pretty handsome when he tries, and the leaf was worth everything…"

Safana nodded her agreement. "But now we'll put up with him until we meet the delightful noble girl. And who knows?" the older woman continued, a flash of mischief in her eyes. "Perhaps she'll decide we're better company than he is, and we can rescue her _properly_ from his vile clutches!"

They laughed together, arms slipping around each others shoulders as their friendship returned to its usual state. Lene was thankful; to have some kind of normality in her life was welcome, as it seemed like her emotions and feelings had been sailing on stormy seas since they arrived at the city. She'd stick with Safana through this ridiculous plan, and hopefully they'd see the back of the bard before long.

--

The Silvershield Estate was large and grand. The walls around it were tall and only one large set of iron gates allowed access to the compound. It was with no small amount of disbelief that Lene watched Eldoth scale the walls, having hooked a small grapple around one of the battlements. Within minutes he'd reached the top, in a surprising display of agility, and he beckoned the women to follow him.

Safana went next, inching her way up as the moonlight glinted on her hair. They'd loitered around the district until the sun had set, checking to see how heavily guarded access would be. They'd soon realised that slipping through the gates would be an impossible option; everyone seeking access to the estate was stopped and searched, and the guards never left their post.

Not even when Eldoth let loose a few horses from one of the nearby stables, and chased them onto the streets. The guardsmen watched the mounts stampede past, but it only seemed to make them even more alert.

Before long, Lene found herself scrabbling up the wall, wiggling furiously as she tried to her hardest to make swift progress. It seemed to take an eternity, and by the time she joined her colleagues on the narrow ledge of the wall, she was fighting for breath. Eldoth gave her a dark look.

"Do you wish us to rest a while?" he asked, smirking. "Your struggle to find air will alert the guards in no time if we continue."

Lene glared at him, but said nothing as they waited a few moments until she felt okay to go on. Cautiously they crept along the wall a short way before jumping down onto the roof of a carriage. From there, they made their way to a small copse of trees and looked over at the mansion.

"This way," Eldoth whispered, beckoning them to follow him. The gardens were strangely quiet and apparently free from guards. Lene's heart was in her mouth, however; she jumped on more than one occasion when she heard distant noises or saw shadows flickering.

They drew up to the house, cowering beside some grand looking bushes. Eldoth prodded around in the dirt, then stood up and launched a fairly large pebble at one of the upstairs windows. It clattered off the glass loudly, and they all instinctively huddled together in the cover of the thorny shrub.

An age passed before a shadow appeared at the window. Lene squinted, barely able to make out the figure, but Eldoth seemed to be surer of his convictions. He leapt from his hiding place, waving to the silhouette with a flourish. The window was thrown open, and an excitable looking girl leaned so far out that Lene feared she might fall.

"Eldoth!" the girl cried. The bard instantly froze, a horrified expression on his face.

"Shh, my sugarplum!" he whispered loudly, placing a finger over his lips. "We wouldn't want daddy to know I was here, would we?"

The girl giggled, her hands covering her mouth as she looked down at the minstrel lovingly. Lene felt sick.

"I've come to rescue you!" the bard continued. "Come – climb down those vines, and we will away!"

The girl's eyes widened. "Oh, how dreadfully exciting!" she hissed back to him. "Let me pack!"

She disappeared from the window, ignoring Eldoth's protests at the delay and his urging her to hurry. Lene shared a look with Safana; the older woman looked quite bemused by it all.

"Why did he need us to come with him, again?" Lene asked quietly. Her friend just shrugged, but Lene had her suspicions. Should they be caught, she had no doubt that Eldoth would use his association with Skie to weasel his way out of any trouble; leaving both her and Safana as the scapegoats…

A loud thump, followed by a muted curse, drew Lene's attention back to the proceedings. A hefty looking bag had appeared beside Eldoth, and the noble girl was halfway out of her window, hanging dangerously from the ivy that clung to the walls.

"That's it, my sweet," the bard called lowly, encouraging her as she daintily picked her way down. Lene was quietly impressed; the noble was elegant and graceful, but seemed to be no stranger to scaling the walls outside her own bedroom.

Before long the bard had grabbed both the bag, and his lover's arm, and brought her to the bush. He quickly introduced her to the girls as she stared at them, wide-eyed and with a hint of suspicion, and then they were off again, running back to the walls.

Somehow they escaped without anyone noticing them; the girl, Skie, took a moment to explain that her father was seeing to important council business that eve, and most of his men were protecting the dignitaries dining downstairs. Eldoth looked quite satisfied at this.

"So, where are we going?" Skie asked, heaving her bag onto her shoulders with some help from Safana. She seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that Eldoth made no efforts to carry it for her.

"We're staying at the Elfsong at the moment," the older woman said. Lene half expected the girl to throw a tantrum at the thought of slumming it, as she paused in her stride, and looked over to Eldoth with what looked to be tears shining in her eyes.

"The Elfsong?" she asked him for clarification. He nodded slowly.

"That… that…" She squealed, launching herself at him, and throwing her arms around his surprised form. "That's such a _dangerous_ place! How exciting!"


End file.
